Beyond Good and Evil
by TheYellowThuderGod
Summary: Leaving behind a desperate future, Harry Potter sets out to build a better past, two goals firmly locked inside his mind - extinguishing every little piece of the Dark Lord Voldemort and keeping all of his precious friends and family safe. Things start off well, but Harry knew that his infamous "luck" would strike sooner or later. He had just hoped it would be later. Harry/Multi
1. Chapter 01

**Author's Note:**

This is my first fanfiction ever written and an opportunity for me to learn if this is something I can and want to do. I don't have much of the plot planned, writing things as they float inside my head. Updates might be sporadic, but I will try my best to deliver good quality to you as soon as possible. Reviews will surely help with that. Feel free to tell me any feelings or opinions you have towards the story, if you like it or not, and why. I appreciate every comment.

I am also searching for a beta, so if you are interested please send a pm.

* * *

With a gasp, Harry's body jolted upright. His eyes frantically looked around, soaking in every bit of his environment: the dusty shelves with the few broken soldiers on it, the spider dangling a few inches above his head, the old filthy mattress he lay on, and the locked door right next to him. The familiar setting, which once had inspired fear and resignation, ignited a spark of hope inside his chest. Still not a hundred percent convinced, he looked at himself. His hands were small, far smaller than they had been just a few seconds ago. His tiny frame did not hold the muscles he had built up over the many hours of training, and he was far shorter than he had been for years. He was looking at the body of a child.

It had worked. He was back.

A small smirk formed on his lips, slowly spreading into a grin, before exploding into a full-blown laughter. It had been more than a gamble. It had been a desperate, foolish idea. It had been the last resort of a broken man. Honestly, he hadn't really expected it to work. He would have embraced death if only to flee from the horrors of reality. But it had actually worked.

His laughter slowly receded, but the grin stayed, as Harry nonchalantly unlocked his "room" with a short wave of his hand. He had a lot of work to do, but first, he needed to know the date. He needed to update his plan, depending on his current age. Waking up in the closet under the stairs meant that he had not yet started his Hogwarts education—he let out a small snort at the words 'Hogwarts' and 'education' together in one sentence—but he hoped that he may have a few years of preparation time left before having to operate from inside Hogwarts.

Noting that it was still dark outside, he made his way into the kitchen. It was a miracle that nobody had heard his manic laughter, but if they had, Vernon would now be standing right in front of him, veins popping out of his head and all that. A second snort escaped his lips—in his younger years that image would have had him shivering and looking for cover, now it only left him amused.

Reaching the calendar next to the fridge his lips curved upward a tiny bit more. Today was the 23rd of June, 2012. He was nine years old and had a bit more than a year before he had to enter Hogwarts. While he had hoped for a bit more time, a year would be enough to get all the basics set up. For once, luck seemed to be on his side. He wondered how long that would last. As he was Harry-freaking-let-bad-shit-happen-to-me-Potter, he gave it around five minutes.

"Well, no use starting the day with an empty stomach," Harry mumbled to himself, taking a frying pan out of the bottom drawer under the stove, craving some scrambled eggs and bacon. It was nearly seven, so this was the time he usually started making breakfast. But today, things would be a bit different from what the Dursleys expected. No breakfast for Dudders and Daddy, and everything for the freak.

He really should work on keeping that manic grin off his face.

After finishing preparing his meal, he wholeheartedly dug in. His body felt extremely hungry. Maybe he had been forced on some sort of fast again for doing something really bad—like existing. He had often wondered how he had been able to do any kind of duelling activity with that malnourished body of his. Heck, even at the age of seventeen he had been far too small and thin. Well, he wouldn't wait until his twenties to start eating right and exercising this time around.

Finishing up the last piece of bacon, Harry put the dirty dishes into the washer and headed towards the front door. Reaching into the pockets of his uncle's huge coat, which could just as easily have belonged to Hagrid, he pulled out his wallet, grabbing the cash card and the corresponding piece of paper with the pin code on it. Silently shaking his head, Harry wondered whoever thought putting these two things together into one place was a good idea. Oh yes, the same man who thought it was totally fine to stuff your nephew into a cupboard with no food for a week.

The nearest cash dispenser wasn't far from Privet Drive. It took Harry around ten minutes of walking to retrieve a thousand pounds and head towards the bus stop. He threw the card into a trashcan and the slip of paper quickly found its way into another one a few blocks apart. No need to rob his cousin of his twelfth birthday present. Or would it be eleven this year? Harry wasn't so sure.

While he pondered on this very important and existential question, a bus stopped right in front of him. The bus driver did give him a bit of a curious glance but returned to his bagel after Harry gave him the needed money and quickly spouted something about visiting family in London. He was lucky that the dispenser had also given him some rather small notes, he didn't want to start dishing out confundus charms needlessly. Magic did leave traces after all, and he knew for a fact that one long-white-bearded wizard was exceptionally good at trailing those. It was the same wizard that had once taught him how to avoid leaving them, among many other things. Sadly, all that knowledge came far too late. Still, Dumbledore had always done whatever he could under the constraints he was under. Harry's teeth angrily ground against each other at that thought. Magic could do wonderful things, but it could also be truly terrible. Ancient magic, doubly so. Magic once woven to ensure peace between wizards, now used by those same wizards to push the agenda of one of the most powerful Dark Lords in centuries—with most of them not even aware of what they were doing.

A few key players were pulling the strings from the shadows, most of them free of the constraints that held people like Dumbledore, undoubtedly the most powerful wizard of this age, in check—waiting for the return of their Lord and setting the stage for his arrival, making sure to ensnare every possible opponent into powerful bindings and passing law after law that made that job so much easier.

Every potentially powerful witch or wizard was closely monitored and bound as soon as possible. The more powerful the individual, the more drastic the magic woven around them would be. Information leaks were highly controlled and the muggleborns were given almost nothing. They held the highest risk after all. Most magical infants were tagged and monitored from birth when they were only minutes old. With muggleborns, that was just not possible. They could only be detected at eleven when their name would appear in the Hogwarts Book of Names. The Trace was the first of many magics taking a hold of those children, holding far more weight than simple spell detections—not that anyone was told about what they were doing when getting their wand at Ollivanders.

That was the reason it was so incredibly difficult to get a wand without the Trace, or any magical focus for that matter. They were strictly outlawed. Every offense was punished by death. Selling one? Death. Owning one? Death. Even knowing about one and not bringing it up to the proper authorities left you with a dementor's kiss.

Which was exactly why Harry's highest priority right now would be getting himself a proper magical focus. Not getting any kind of binding onto himself was the single most important part of defeating Voldemort. The Dark Lord had shed those bindings with dozens of abhorrent rituals. It had left him a broken shell of the charismatic man he once was, but it had also made him powerful and, more importantly, free.

Dumbledore's answer had been far less dark, but not less unforgiving. Harry's whole body shuddered at that thought. He had nothing but respect for the ancient wizard. What Dumbledore had done to himself to work around the extremely powerful magic holding him was equally brave, cunning, and self-sacrificing—a feat Harry could not even fathom how to accomplish, not that he ever wished to duplicate it.

His arrival at the next bus station brought Harry out of his increasingly depressing thoughts. Central London was bathing in the warm light of the morning sun, the streets busy with people commuting to their workplaces. Nobody spared the run-down looking child even a glance—good.

His destination clear in his mind, Harry began walking ahead. It took him another fifteen minutes or so until he reached a neighbourhood consisting mostly of middle-class families. Some mothers bringing their children to the local kindergarten spared him a sad look, and one even asked him if he had gotten lost. An eager smile and the reassurance that he was on his way to his aunt and uncle, a way he knew very well, got him a small smile in return, and he was left to his own devices again. This was a purely muggle neighbourhood, a fact that really helped the man he would be meeting. After all, if you don't want to get caught by the ministry: go muggle.

Anton Kusznezow was the only man Harry knew of who successfully sold magical focuses illegally—or at least the only one who had survived it for more than a few weeks. He had always boasted about being in the business for more than twelve years, which, if it was true, meant that he had started his trade in Britain about a year ago. The deciding factor of Kusznezow's long lasting success was his paranoia not even matched by one particular one-eyed Auror. He never stayed in one place for more than a week, all magic around him was strictly forbidden and cost you your head if you tried it, and every interaction with him went through middlemen, who subjected you to questioning under Veritaserum and were memory charmed periodically, so even if captured knew nothing of value for the authorities. These middlemen were actually muggle, which made finding them even harder for wizarding authorities.

The only way to initiate contact was through three predetermined hot-spots containing only a computer with periodically updated meeting places. If you wanted to start an interaction, you just had to type a name into one of the scheduled meetings and the time, date, and place would disappear from the system. The available meeting points and times randomly updated every five minutes so that nobody could look at them beforehand or scout all of them. Harry had always liked the clever and quite secure system.

Stopping in front of one of the apartment buildings Harry was ready to ring the bell of flat number six when the name on the doorbell made him pause. 'Brown' was neatly written above the tiny button, and the label was a bit worn out, definitely being older than a year. He let out a string of muttered curses. Hoping for the best, he rang the doorbell nonetheless. Maybe Kusznezow had started out without his actual name on these doorbells or had not yet replaced it.

"Hello?" a female voice echoed through the speaker. Harry's faced turned into a grimace.

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I have pushed the wrong button," he declared, already turning around and walking towards the street, not even listening to the response. There were two possible explanations for this: The first one was that Kusznezow used some other entry points at this point in time. Maybe he had only set up one for now. Or maybe, and Harry bitterly hoped that this was not the case, he had lied and hadn't even started selling magical focuses. Acquiring one without knowledge of the market was more than risky. The last time it had cost him one of his friends and a finger, and right now he had neither the friend nor the finger to spare.

Taking a deep breath, Harry calmed himself. He had to check out the other apartments first, maybe he was being too pessimistic. Thus, Harry began his walk to the next bus station, which took him half across London into another ordinary looking, middle class, and wizard-empty area. The moment his eyes caught the label at the designated building, his dangling hope sunk down into a bottomless pit. Mr. Cleveland sounded nice through the speaker, but Harry might have preferred talking to the Dark Lord himself, at least that would bring some entertainment to this tragedy. Just for completion he also checked the last of Kusznezow's hot-spots, where he found another ordinary English name, with another ordinary English family behind it. His aunt and uncle would surely have liked that fact. Harry did not.

Well, his carefully woven plan had gone to shit real fast. Harry-Potter-ish fast. Angrily muttering curse after curse, he sat down on a wooden bench next to the local playground and started contemplating his misery. What should he do? Try to locate another dealer, with just his wandless abilities? That would be practical suicide right there. Getting a wand at Ollivanders? He might as well just turn up at the ministry and declare his evil plan to overthrow the government and destroy the Dark Lord Voldemort to the minister himself. Well, the minister wouldn't be a problem at all. Fudge had the magical capabilities of a squib and a brain the size of a peanut. The Aurors however would wipe the floor with him in an instant. With luck he would end up in St Mungo's and not inside Azkaban. Damn Kusznezow and his overactive mouth.

Kicking stone after stone across the park did not help Harry's feelings at all. He just couldn't do anything on his agenda without a focus. This left him with only one option: crafting one himself. He roughly knew of a few possible processes, but only one of those would leave him with a high functioning one. A few of them would just naturally produce poor results, only meant to produce something used temporarily, and the rest were far out of Harry's magical expertise. He had never focused on that particular branch of magic. He had however put a lot of work into studying various rituals and had once encountered a way of crafting a very special kind of focus. The ritual was anything but light, blood magic rarely was, but he had stopped judging any aspect of magic a long time ago. He had employed so called 'evil' or 'dark' magic to save countless of lives, and he would never stop using everything at his disposal to continue doing that. He knew he was walking a slippery slope there, but what was the alternative: let Voldemort rule the country, eliminate all muggleborns from the face of the earth, and kick off a war against muggles which would eradicate most of the population of Britain? No, thank you very much. Common wizarding kind even placed talking to snakes as inherently evil magic. Harry chuckled silently. It was funny how far belief systems could push superstition. Magic was far more complex than that, with intent weighing far more on the consequences of certain magic than the inherent magic itself did.

With his newfound course of action firm in his mind, he swung himself back on his feet and made his way to his next destination. He needed a temporary base of operations, somewhere he could sleep and work in peace. He had seen a cheap motel a few miles from this neighbourhood. A small confundus charm should take care of the I'm-a-nine-year-old-child-booking-a-motel-alone problem the owner would have. Whenever someone else asked, he could just say he was traveling with his dad or something. Harry sighed. Being so young made things so much more complicated than they had to be. Employing any kind of magic so soon after his departure from his 'family' held a high risk. After he had crafted his focus, he had to relocate instantly, just to be sure. Channelling his inner Moody had saved his ass far too often to not take the mad Auror's shouts of 'constant vigilance' dead seriously.

Surprisingly, getting that motel room did not require Harry to use any kind of magic. The man handing him the keys, a bald shabby looking individual, did not bat an eye at his explanation of already booking the room for him and his father. It was clearly either a lie or definite neglect from his 'father', but the man did seem far more concerned with the magazine in his hands (or rather the barely clad girls inside it) than the child in front of him. Harry welcomed it. He had much to prepare, and not needing to use any magic yet left him with one less thing to worry about.

-o-o-

Exactly thirty-eight days later, Harry awoke startled from an uneasy and far too short sleep. He could not remember the last time he had slept peacefully. Dreams haunted him—dreams of the past, of horrors he would like to forget, and since a bit more than a month now, for the first time in years, dreams of the future. But those dreams were just as unpleasant as the ones about the past. Seeing your friends die or suffer in new and imaginative ways was in no way better than the ones you had already experienced. But the sole fact that he was able to dream up those horrible scenarios again was worth all the bad dreams in the world. It meant that there was some hope that these dreams would not come to pass. It meant that there was a chance that they were just fiction inside his head. It meant that the people he cared about were currently still alive and well. Like every morning, that thought turned his depressed mood into one of determination and excitement. He felt meaning again, something to live for and something to die for, or today: something to bleed for.

He exited his bed and made his way over to the runic circle painted on the floor. The ink was made from a mixture of his blood and carbon black in careful measured proportions. Dozens of tiny symbols formed a circle around 3 feet in diameter. Around that even more runes formed patterns around the edge of the circle, flowing into each other and forming a shape that looked a bit like a mandala from afar. It had taken Harry countless hours to write those symbols. Even one tiny mistake might make the whole ritual fail, and a failed ritual was something Harry did not want to experience. The cost might be immeasurable. It might lose him his magic, or his life. There surely was some validity in regulating these kinds of magic.

Inside the circle lay two of the subjects of this ritual: Two small silver rings. They were made out of pure silver—with a quick Legilimency probe on the seller Harry had made sure of that. Pure silver rings were extremely uncommon, at least in the muggle world, because of their easiness to bend and break. Because of that muggles commonly mixed them with stronger metals for jewellery. Silver was an excellent catalyst for magic and mixing it with other metals would just hinder that, but ritual would make the rings more than sturdy enough.

The common wand used parts of magical creatures to give the wand its function as a focus and its 'personality'. The word personality was far more near the truth than most wizards imagined. Magic always carried intent, and the piece of that magical beast held some of the characteristics of that particular being. Upon contact with a wizard, a wand bonded with its carrier if the characteristics of the individual creature matched the ones of the wizard. If not, the wand itself would reject the bond. If the wand core and the wizard matched, the wand would initiate a bond, effectively merging its magic with the magic of the wizard. That clearly explained why using someone else's wand almost always produced poor results, even if its personality was quite similar to your own. Poor Neville never stood a chance with the wand of his father. Harry shook his head; Neville's grandmother should have known better.

In this case, Harry's focus would not use any magical item to bond with him, which was the reason he was able to use such small objects. Harry himself, or more explicitly, his blood would shape the focus, making the rings an even more direct extension of himself. A part of his magical core would be embedded into them. Losing them would cost him a fair amount of his magical power. Their size made them unsuitable for really big and bold magic, but many spells, no matter how complex, could be cast, as long as they did not use a big amount of magic at once. For that he needed a bigger, secondary focus, something he would get himself later. For now, this suited him perfectly.

Harry kneeled down in front of the circle and shut out the desire to once more check the runes. He needed to focus now; he had checked them enough times. Fixing the rings with a stare, he took a deep breath and began speaking ancient Latin phrases, loudly and clearly. Dumbledore could do things of this calibre with simple mutterings, evidence of his vast magical power and expertise. Harry however had to fixate on the words to keep his magic moulding into the right form, at least at this level of enchantment. The runes began to emit a slight glow at two places on the edge of the circle. Harry placed his hands on that location, and the light abruptly intensified tenfold. With it, a piercing pain erupted from his hands. Focusing on his spoken words, Harry continued. At the side of his hands, fresh blood started flowing along the runes, turning the dark red symbol into a shining red. It travelled along a specific winding path, until it reached the centre of the circle, flowing directly into the silver rings. The blood started etching runes into the metal, slowly but gradually. The pain in Harry's hands travelled up into his chest, the place generally associated with the location of a wizard's magical core. With the blood, Harry's innate magic left his system and infused the rings with power and a part of himself.

After five minutes, worry registered through his ritual-induced haze. Two thirds of the rings were still blank; it was taking far too long. He had lost quite a good amount of blood and, more importantly, magic. He had intended to split only a tiny part of his power, only enough to make the rings work as a focus, but at the rate this was happening, he might exhaust all of it, which meant immediate death. The pain in his chest was increasing bit by bit and after ten minutes only magic kept his mouth talking and his body upright. Harry's mind was foggy and coherent thoughts eluded him, but the blood and magic kept flowing. After nearly thirteen minutes, the runes stopped glowing, his mouth fell silent, and his body slumped forward onto the floor.

-o-o-

Harry's eyelids slowly opened, and he could instantly feel that something was very, very wrong. He felt drained, exhausted and incredibly weak. His chest ached as if a giant hole had replaced the place where his heart was supposed to be. Then the memories returned, and with it, panic and fear. Had he lost his magic? He did not want to fathom the consequences of that. His eyes fell on the two rings situated a few centimetres from his head, clear of blood and carved full of runes. Somehow, he knew that he had to put them on rather quickly or he would not like the consequences.

It took enormous effort to even move his hand in the direction of the rings. In what seemed like an eternity, his fingers travelled across the floor towards the first ring. The moment his index finger connected with the metal, Harry sighed in relief. A good amount of strength poured through him. Quickly, he placed the ring firmly on his finger. Before even moving to sit up, his other hand grabbed the second ring and another surge of energy flooded his body.

Harry peeled his face from the floor and lifted his body upright. It seemed like his magic, nearly all of it, had been transferred to the rings. Harry's eyes narrowed in thought. He did not know any of the consequences of his magic resting mostly in his two focuses. It was something he had not yet encountered or read about. It was safe to assume that losing them would be fatal after a certain amount of time, or at least induce unconsciousness, judging from the state he had just been in. It had resembled magical exhaustion quite a bit. For a moment he thought about taking off one of the rings to better see the difference in states, but the thought alone let the hairs on his neck stand up and a shiver travel up his spine.

It seemed like taking them off would not be appreciated by his body. Did that mean he could not use a secondary focus? Most likely, yes. That meant he had just lost access to most really big and powerful magic.

"Shit."

Thinking about it, he didn't even know how well the rings worked at all.

He did a short swish-and-flick motion with his right hand aimed at the flowers on the desk next to him. He knew he didn't need the hand movements for such simple magic, but he wanted to be very sure that he did this flawlessly. He even thought about using the incantation but decided against it. He wasn't that desperate. The flowers slowly and steadily rose from their vase, hovering in mid-air for a few seconds, before they fell back down, when Harry cut the connection of his magic.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. This was good. He was now able to move onto the next stage of his pre-Hogwarts preparation. But first, he had to relocate without anyone seeing him and without using his magic. There was a slight chance that Dumbledore would detect his breakout from the Dursley's and follow him here through the minds of the people he had met. Seeing his unusual behaviour and his visit to the jewellery store would ring all kinds of alarm bells inside the headmaster's head. From there, he would be able to sense the traces his magic had left and follow him that way when he found no further clues in surrounding people's minds. Magic woven by an individual had a unique signature, and if there was enough of it present, you could familiarise yourself with it and detect it in other places. In the scenario that Dumbledore was able to follow him here, he had planned to discard his Harry Potter identity for a few years. In that case the important part was that nobody connected his new identity with his old one. Luckily, a simple hovering charm wasn't enough to get a permanent feel for someone's magic unless someone cast it right next to you, and the ritual magic had all been sucked into the rings on his fingers. Nevertheless, Harry hoped that Dumbledore would not detect his departure from his home until the memories of him had left the minds of his encounters. That would enable him to enter Hogwarts under his real name, which made things a lot easier.

The following night Harry left the hostel, being very careful not to be seen by anybody. He had awaited the moment he could leave for this next destination since he had arrived back in his cupboard. While he planned to visit a few special individuals in the months to come, this one needed the least preparation. It was also the one he both anticipated and dreaded the most. It was the only person completely free of ministry bindings that he could trust. He needed to get this right or his chances of success would diminish faster than Dumbledore's supply of lemon drops on an especially stressful day.


	2. Chapter 02

**Author's Note:**

I've got a review last chapter from someone thinking this story was stolen. It is, in fact, not stolen. I had uploaded the first chapter a few months prior but deleted it again.

As always, it would make me very happy to see any reviews. Tell me what you think! I am also still searching for a beta, so leave me a pm if you are interested.

Updates should come much more frequent now.

* * *

Emma Granger hurried to the front door, quickly casting aside her oven gloves and silently congratulating herself on the masterpiece of a cake waiting to be consumed by Dan and Hermione. Those two were already sitting in the living room, anxiously waiting for this rare occasion in the Granger household. Cake was normally reserved for birthday's only, but for some reason Emma felt like today might use some chocolate filled goodness.

Opening the door, her brows rose in surprise at not seeing the delivery of the new curtain she had ordered, but a young man—maybe in his early twenty's—showing her a slight smile. Quickly her gaze fell on his mesmerising green eyes, then to his quite unruly black hair. He was neatly dressed, but the lack of a full suit made it quite unlikely that he was here to sell her something.

"Hello Mrs. Granger. I'm sorry to bother you, but there are some issues concerning your daughter that I would like to talk with you about."

Emma was slightly taken aback at that statement and her eyes narrowed. Why was there always something happening around Hermione? The incident at school two weeks ago had been bad enough. Even though Hermione never initiated trouble, it sure seemed to find her. But before she could lose herself in those thoughts again, she quickly flashed the young man a small smile.

"Issues? Are you an employee at her school? Did those awful kids do something again?"

"Maybe we can discuss that inside? It's a rather delicate matter."

Emma nodded slightly and motioned the man to come inside. "Of course, Mr…"

"Potter, Harry Potter."

Harry followed Emma to the table where the rest of the Granger household were currently sitting. He kept his breathing calm and cantered, his Occlumency shields firmly in place. But all that nearly flew out of the windows the moment he laid his sight on the young lady sitting there, looking at him with these eyes far older than they should be at age ten. When he saw Hermione—alive and well—he nearly lost his composure, overcome by the urge to grab her and travel to the freaking Bahama's never to be seen again.

Somehow, he managed to reign himself in. It wouldn't help his case at all if he freaked out now, and he definitely wanted to avoid something like memory charms. Direct manipulation using magic always left a bitter taste inside his mouth.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Granger. Good afternoon, Hermione. My name is Harry Potter. As I know that everything, I have to say today will be a huge load to swallow, I will start this conversation with a demonstration of the first and one of the most pleasant proposition I am here to make you aware of. Magic—real magic and not just cheap parlour tricks—exists."

Dan had been ready to politely order the man out of his house after hearing the last few words of his little introduction, but when the tableware he had inherited from his mother—and that Emma sometimes liked to use for cake-occasions—began moving and performing what looked like a dance, he paused. When the same tableware then started sprouting little arms, legs, and mouths and singing "A kind of Magic", he was happy that he was already sitting. He looked at Emma, who didn't look like she was faring much better.

Taking a seat on the opposite side of the table, Harry observed the Granger's reaction. The sound of quiet girlish laughter had him turn from Dan's shocked face to the source of said amusement. Hermione was giggling with her bright brown eyes sparkling. The Grangers had turned their gaze from the tableware to their daughter but what left the girls mouth after that giggle left both of them even more shocked than before.

"Mom! Dad! I'm a witch! Right, Mr. Potter?"

Harry flashed the girl a big smile. "You undoubtedly are, Hermione."

"You can't be serious?" Dan exclaimed, staring at Harry with all the might of a concerned father.

"I assure you, Mr. Granger, I am completely serious," Harry replied, his voice calm and collected. A small twitch of his hand let a wave of smoothing energy enter the now very tense room. "I know this is a lot to stomach. I assure you, I am speaking the truth and my only goal in coming here today is to help you deal with the realisation that your daughter has magic capabilities and the consequences those abilities present you with."

Dan felt himself at a loss of words, so he looked over at Emma, who nonchalantly set down on the last free chair, before addressing Harry far more calmly than he expected. "Maybe you could make the tableware turn back to normal, so we can eat that cake while you tell us why you are here exactly now, what has brought you onto the fact that Hermione has these capabilities, and what this means for her future?"

A short wave of Harry's hand made exactly that happen. He took a moment to gather his thoughts while Emma gave everyone a piece of cake. Harry observed the faces of the Granger family carefully. All of them looked intrigued and still a little shocked. Hermione had excitement sparkling in her eyes, but also a bit of wariness mixed into that. She had always been quite good at reading people and situations and Harry guessed that she suspected that all this wasn't just a positive development.

"This situation sadly is far more complicated than I wish it would be," he started, picking his words very carefully. "The normal procedure is that magical children born to non-magical parents are automatically recorded at their eleventh birthday by an ancient charmed book, currently residing in Britain's school for magical children. As soon as that happens, a representative of that school is sent to the parents to inform them of their child's upcoming attendance at that school."

"Inform? That sounds like there is no choice involved in that decision. Also, Hermione has not yet turned eleven." Dan's eyebrows furrowed, and a scowl was plastered were only minutes ago a small smile had been. He did not like were this was going.

"And you would be correct in the assumption you are making. There is no choice involved. Either the parents of said child comply, or they forget they ever had a child in the first place. I am currently not able to tell you how I found out that Hermione is such a child. I am also not a representative of said school. In fact, me telling you all this is a crime punished with lifelong imprisonment in our society. "

Harry deliberately made a pause after that piece of information. He had to treat carefully here. While he intended on being as honest with the Grangers as he possibly could, he knew that if he revealed too much too soon, they would throw him out in a panic—and that would be neither good for him or them. When it did not seem like the Grangers were about to interrupt him, he continued talking.

"Magical society is quite a bit behind any non-magical country. We have hidden ourselves from your world after the witch hunts were too much to handle. I'm afraid the middle ages are still a lot more alive inside the minds of witches and wizards than they should be. Oppression is one of the most prominent features of our society, especially concerning non-magical people and their magical offspring. As soon as those representatives I spoke of would have arrived at your house, any rights concerning your daughter would cease to exist—and you would not even know it."

"Why are you telling us this? Are you suggesting we should pack our belongings and leave the country because crazy wizards will kidnap our daughter if we won't?" Dan's voice had risen above the normal conversation volume, but Harry could see that he was still keeping himself together quite well. Harry's respect for Dan shot up a few notches at that. Others would have kicked him out already, dancing tea pods or not.

"No, that is not what I am suggesting. You could surely try, but every country has some means of detecting young witches and wizard, and the situation isn't looking much better in any of them. A few decades ago, Britain was actually hailed as quite 'progressive'." A sigh escaped his lips, and Harry gave the Grangers a few seconds to stomach that by sipping on his tea. Then, he continued.

"I am here to represent a small group of wizards and witches, dedicated to upheave the oppressive structure build up by the cowardly people that would steal your daughter right under your nose. I am going to present you with a decision. The first option is a simple one. I am going to leave and erase your memory of this conversation. You will then be contacted next year from the representative I mentioned. The consequences of this are the ones I outlined—you will lose all power concerning the life of your daughter. The second option is that you essentially lay your trust and faith into us. We would start training her on her magic abilities as well as necessary knowledge to deal with the world she is about to enter. We will make sure to shield her from any harm as far as we can. We will also explain the inner workings of your daughter's new world to you, so you will get a better picture of what is happening."

"Are you threatening us, Mr. Potter?" Dan asked, his face twisted into anger.

"Not at all. I am presenting you with a solution to something you cannot even fathom the consequences of. If your daughter enters that school without any foreknowledge of how the system works, and without the ability to defend herself, she will be a target. A target without the ability to defend herself because she is seen as a second-class citizen. In the best-case scenario, the only thing crushed will be her spirit. Or, if she somehow offends the wrong type of people, she will not leave that school alive. _That_ is how serious this is."

Silence followed. It stretched for seconds, maybe even minutes, Harry didn't know. He hadn't planned on revealing this much, but the memories, the grief, the sorrow—it had overwhelmed him. Now, he might as well go all-out.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, let me show you something."

One finger placed at his temple, a small silver string excited his head, delicate hand movements manipulated that string into a tiny ball, that started to expand into an orb. A wave of his other hand, directed at Hermione, let the agitated girl fall asleep. This was nothing she should or would ever see as long as he was alive.

The orb grew larger, morphing into different shades and colours, until a scene presented itself to the three adults.

Three boys, chasing a distraught girl. Dan and Emma instantly recognized their daughter, but she looked quite a tad older. Maybe thirteen or fourteen? Dan's boiling anger exploded, as soon as he saw the state she was in. She was heavily sobbing, waving her wand in hectic motions, trying to slow the three larger boys down, but her spells were batted away like flies by the more numerous and obviously older teenagers. "You think you are something special, Granger? You think you are powerful because that old hack said so? We will show you who holds the power here!"

A cry of motherly anguish escaped Emma's lips, as she saw her daughter slip and fall right on her face, her wand breaking on the floor. The grinning faces of the boys looming over her let tears swell into her eyes. Blood swelled from her nose, mixing with the tears into a light-red liquid of fear and pain. "So, Granger, let us see who exactly the more powerful wizard is."

Looking at the couple in front of him, Harry waved the memory away with a quick and effortless motion of his hand. His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it cut into the Granger's like a sharp blade. "I cannot tell you how I know this, but this is the future that awaits her. We will of course try to stop such things, no matter what you decide on, but there is only so much we can do once she has entered our world."

"Why her?" Emma asked, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Why are you here and not at some other house, with some other magical child?"

"A few reasons," Harry sighed. "One of them is that Hermione holds potential far above the average witch. Others, I cannot say. At least not yet." Harry knew he had won. He had convinced them. Why then, did it feel so much like losing?

-o-o-

Why did cheap Vodka taste like piss even after you had drowned half a bottle? And why could he still feel far too much pain?

Remus Lupin leaned his head against the brick wall of the abandoned building that he currently called his home. He felt more like bashing it in, but somehow decided against it. He deserved this suffering far too much to simply end it that easily. His mind easily drifted back to the other part of his two-package thought torment—from suicide to his four dead best friends.

Peter, always covering in fear but in his last moment standing tall against evil in the face of death. Being completely honest, Remus had never liked Peter that much, which made his guilt at the death of Wormtail much worse.

Sirius, the one who had died the moment he had betrayed them to a dark lord in exchange for a cell inside the soul sucking prison called Azkaban. Nothing more needed to be said here. Remus didn't want to know what hat motivated Sirius. He didn't want to know how long he had been a spy. He didn't want to remember Sirius even existed.

Lily, the incredibly smart witch that saw past his wolf and into his heart, seeing positive qualities that even he could not find himself. A skill that made her one of the most compassionate human beings he had ever met.

And James, the brave and sometimes incredibly stupid man-child, who despite all his faults had always stood by his side. He had changed quite a lot in his years at Hogwarts. At first, he had been an arrogant bully, but somehow he had morphed into a positive ray of light, always brightening up a room when he entered.

Remus let his eyes close for a moment, just to picture those people in detail. They deserved to be remembered, and he would be the one to do so. After he had pictured James, he opened his eyes again—jerking his head back in shock at seeing the image not vanish but get a lot clearer in front of him. His head snapped against the wall, leaving his vision blurry and his senses dulled.

"J-James?" he managed to croak, trying to fumble for his wand. Who would take the time to polyjuice into James Potter just to torment him? A death eater, here to finish him off?

"Not quite Moony," the Fake-James answered, a smirk on his lips. "You searching for something?"

Remus let out a growl at seeing the impersonator twirling his wand in his hands. When he snapped it like a twig, Remus eyes widened.

"Are you insane? The ministry will be here in an instant!"

"Which is why we are leaving, and you—Remus Lupin—are dying."

Remus couldn't even muster up the strength to fight. Maybe he should welcome death. Hadn't Dumbledore always said it was the next great adventure? He hoped that one would be a lot better than this.

Confusion hit him when he realised that not only was he still alive and breathing, but that the imposer had reached deep into his obviously enlarged pockets to pull out…a straw puppet drenched in some sort of black goo? Taking a somewhat closer look Remus could see that the straw was bound into quite deliberate looking patterns forming….runes?

"Is that…?"

"Yes, that is highly illegal dark magic. Now I need a drop of your blood."

The stranger pulled out a knife, looking at Remus with these intense green eyes. Wait, green eyes? Whoever did this Polyjuice, seriously needed to work on his brewing skills. Deciding to just play along, Remus put out his hand. The stranger cut his palm open, a lot deeper than he had expected. Even through the alcohol, Remus could not supress the wince.

"Sorry, a shallow cut won't do."

Blood dropped onto the strawman and the black goo started bubbling. The whole thing turned into black boiling humanoid shape, growing larger and larger, before slowly settling down into features Remus could identify quite easily. It was himself the puppet was turning into—well a dead version of himself.

"A black avatar isn't distinguishable from a real human corpse unless you are a master necromancer. I seriously doubt the people arriving will fill that role. Come on now, we have to hurry."

The James lookalike then pulled a quite dirty looking sock out of his pocket and held it out to him.

"You know, using socks as portkey's is a bit of an inside joke, maybe you will get it in a few years when you meet a friend of mine. But you really should take it before those Aurors arrive here."

Wordlessly, Remus grabbed the sock and felt himself get sucked into the familiar turbulence of portkey travel. As he was already sitting, he didn't need to worry about trying to stay upright in his drunken state, which he felt quite glad about. Still, as soon as he arrived at his current destination, he was promptly grabbed by the stranger and felt himself being pulled into an apparition. He hadn't even been able to see where they had landed before. They seemed to hop through several locations, until finally the guy let go of him.

"Ahh, home sweet home. I am sorry. I didn't yet have time to redecorate. I had hoped you could help me with that."

Remus stopped himself from gaping at the scene he really didn't want to see right now—or ever. They were standing in front of the Potter residence at Godric's Hollow. The statue of James, Lily and Harry was standing in front of them, behind that what was left of the once very welcoming home.

"I did however, had time to reactivate and do a bit of upgrading on the wards. This should see us safe from prying eyes."

"Only a Potter can reactivate those wards," Remus mumbled, while staggering to his feet.

"Yes, that made the whole thing here quite convenient. Shall we?"

Wondering what was inside that bottle of vodka, and if, in actuality, he was still in the warehouse, passing out inside his own vomit again, Remus followed the man through the gate and inside the front door. Remus had never seen the house after that night, and the completely destroyed hallway told him that, at least, James had not left this place without a good fight.

"I have keyed the illusion of the destroyed ruin inside the wards, so when we start building this place up nobody will notice. I'm good at that—illusions mind you, not wards. It was quite the hassle integrating that into the already existing ward scheme, but I wouldn't be able to build up something similar from scratch. Speaking of illusions…"

For a moment, the air around the man shimmered, before revealing a quite different, yet similar figure. He now looked at…a kid. A kid that looked quite a lot like James had looked when he had boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. He wasn't sure what astounded him more—that the person in front of him was able to weave illusions that were this convincing (there was a reason polyjuice existed), or that he apparently was a child that looked just like James Potter.

"Harry Potter, at your service. I will now knock you out and get that poison out of your system. We will talk tomorrow Moony."

Remus seriously doubted that. But maybe this dream would continue a bit longer. He wouldn't mind that.


	3. Chapter 03

**Author's Note:**

Thank You for you feedback for chapter 02!

As always, it would make me very happy to see any reviews. Tell me what you think! I am also still searching for a beta, so leave me a pm if you are interested.

I hope you have fun reading this!

* * *

When Remus entered the kitchen on the ground floor the next morning, his head was still pounding — both from alcohol and the endless questions flooding his mind. Nearly every room on the second floor was a total mess, but on the first floor a few seemed to have taken nearly no damage on that fateful night, as most likely Voldemort had not entered them.

The kitchen was one of those rooms, and with a sigh Remus placed himself on the opposite of the already sitting child that claimed to be the son of his best friend and had just kidnapped him using highly complex dark magic.

"How?" he uttered, accepting the cup of coffee the child handed him.

"Time Travel," was the monotone answer that was offered.

"Time Travel?"

"Yes."

Remus took a few seconds to let that sink in. He didn't even want to know what it would take to make a jump in time this big. But what worried him even more was just how bad things must have been to drive someone to such lengths.

"Do you have any proof?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Slightly surprised, he let the small flavour of cinnamon roll of his tongue. It wasn't a guarded secret, but he didn't think many people cared about how exactly Remus Lupin liked to drink his coffee.

"We will both swear an unforgivable in a few days. If I drop dead, I am lying."

Remus brows furrowed at that. "Why go to such lengths? There are easier ways to prove an identity."

"Yes, but the vow serves more than one function. The primary one will be protection from any binding magic trying to make you serve against our wishes. While this is not commonly known, the unbreakable vow _always_ takes precedence over any other vow or binding if it was completed first. — which is why it was made an Azkaban worthy offence."

"Harry, I am still bou-"

"I know. Trust me, I have researched every possible way to break the ministry bindings, and while the situations required to do that without the consent of the binder are very few edge cases and the proceedings are often times less than… pretty, I have found ways. All of them require some sort of special condition to make use of loop holes in the spells. Luckily, being a lycanthrope is one of those conditions."

The child gave him a small smile which turned into a slight grimace for the next words. "The ritual will be quite painful in more than one way, but afterwards you will be completely free."

Remus knew the next words he uttered were wrong. He could feel it — even his wolf could feel it — but the bitterness inside him still made its voice heart. "To then be enslaved by another vow, to another master?"

Remus expected the small smile on the lips of "supposedly Harry" to vanish, but to his surprise he was met with a look that signalled so much compassion, he nearly dropped his coffee.

"I am no one's master. If you want, you are free to leave after the ritual. If you decide to stay, we will design the vows together and from that point onward, we will also work, live and breathe together — for our future and the future of every single person inside Britain."

Remus didn't know why, but his heart seemed to quietly burst into a million pieces at that statement. It hadn't been the words, it had been something deeper. Something only his soul was able to pick up on. Somehow, he knew that the person in front of him was telling the truth. Somehow, he could feel that the only right way forward was to trust him. Inside him, for the first time in years, hope shimmered to the surface. It was still small, but it was a feeling he had missed more than anything else.

"This is something big, isn't it?"

"This, Moony, is going to be the next era of magic. An era marked by freedom."

Remus took a long sip of his coffee, looking inside the brightly twinkling eyes of Harry Potter. "I'm in."

-o-o-

Remus growled, struggling against the chains that held him fixed on the altar. A freaking altar! Was there anything else screaming more "dark and painful" than an altar? The pain had begun to slowly rise as soon as Harry had started chanting, and now — after about an hour — it had started to become quite unbearable. And not only had he been chained to an altar, but he also had to be naked for it — so much for any kind of decency for the duration of this ritual.

The idea Harry had explained on how to free him from his bindings was quite simple. They were bound to a specific magical signature — the one of Remus Lupin. Altering that signature would make all of them useless as the bindings would still be applied to the old signature. The only problem was that changing a signature was nearly impossible. As the magical signature was directly derived from the soul of that individual witch or wizard, only magic effecting the soul would be able to do it — and only very few spells or rituals were able to do that. The killing course was the only spell Remus knew capable of altering the soul — namely destroying it. That was how Harry was able to move so freely. Through being hit by that curse his magical signature had been permanently altered.

When Harry had explained how exactly Voldemort had dropped all his bindings, Remus had felt like retching. Splitting one's soul once would leave most people on the brink of insanity. Doing it seven times should leave anyone a blabbering mess. It was a miracle Voldemort was even able to speak coherent sentences. Combining that piece of information with the shock that the Dark Lord was still very much alive and kicking didn't help his mood at all.

"How lo-arrgh-" he tried to ask for the third time, although he knew perfectly well that Harry wasn't able to answer, far too engulfed in the magic trying to draw his wolf out. Today was one day before the full moon, making Remus feel even more wretched than normal. But it was the day his wolf was the closest to the surface, excluding the actual night of the full moon. They planned on changing his magical signature through drawing his inner wolf deeper into his soul. While lycanthropy already permanently altered the soul, his bindings were promptly re-applied after he had been bitten. This was actually a ritual made to strengthen a werewolf, designed centuries ago by wizards wanting to up the power of their slave werewolves, when they were still considered good battle assets and not just despicable creatures. No wonder most werewolves had followed the Dark Lord. He at least found them useful.

Suddenly, the pain spiked to an unbearable degree and Remus could not hold back the primal scream that emitted his throat. His arms and legs were jerking at his chains while his whole body felt like it was on fire. Somewhere, in the back of his mind the thought registered that this felt way worse than the actual werewolf transformation. And when something felt worse than all your bones breaking and rearranging themselves, you knew something _really_ hurt.

Normally, his mind would make him pass out from the pain, but the magic stopped that from happening. His vision started blurring, and he could feel the changes inside his body that he had started dreading the moment Harry had explained the ritual. Harry had theorized that Greyback had undergone this ritual too, and it was what had given him his more wolf-like appearance, as well as the physical and magical power-up.

Remus had always shied away from his wolf. Now merging closer to it, to the point of physical alterations, had made him more than a tad nervous. He was scared that he would become just like Greyback — a beast inside a man's body. Harry, on the other hand, had been quite optimistic, stating that as far as he knew Greyback had always been the violent animal he was, and Remus could "actually use some werewolf backbone to compliment the kind human".

That was the last coherent thought he was able to think before his screams turned into howls and his mind receded into a state of a barely conscious haze.

-o-o-

The week it took Remus to wake from his ritual induced coma Harry mostly spend planning. Harry wanted to introduce a few more core members into his little revolutionary organization, but most of them were still unreachable. Well, as soon as he got Remus a magical focus, a bit extra training, and able to comfortably work with his newfound wolf-abilities, they could at least start working on one of those. Harry was more than interested in what Remus's abilities actually consisted of. What he knew was quite vague and suggested big differences from werewolf to werewolf. He also knew Greyback was able to transform into a part-werewolf — that ability would be quite useful.

The fourth core member had to wait until he was able to safely enter Hogwarts. He was quite torn about that. On the one hand, living inside Hogwarts would give him a lot of new opportunities, but it also subjected him to the wary eyes of the staff members and one very observant headmaster. Well, at least he knew Dumbledore would be purposefully looking the other way whenever he was able to. The trick would be to keep him able to do that.

They still had a bit less than a year of preparation. That should leave them with barely enough time to get the third key member out of the clutches of the ministry. The other two major projects would be getting this house ready to act as a proper base of operations as well as starting Hermione's training. They also needed to carve out the necessary vows. Harry had already started to formulate part of them inside his head, but he really wanted to wait mostly for Remus's input. That man was far too intelligent to not involve him in their construction.

What he was able to figure out though, was that most likely it would be the most secure thing to establish a real organization with a defined purpose and centre the vows around that. He knew Dumbledore had done something similar with the Order of the Phoenix, but his success had been very limited, as their members were only able to follow order business when it didn't directly conflict with the former, first established, ministry bindings. Still, the headmaster was able to do quite a lot under these constraints, especially considering the mental barriers he was under. But it forced him to be incredibly passive, something one could not effort inside a civil war.

Harry had also started working on getting the destroyed rooms back into shape as well as turning this family home into something more… useful. For much of the work he needed at least Remus if not even more people to get the proper enchantments going. Things such as space enlargement, a duelling chamber with the proper safety wards. Stuff like that had never been his expertise. For now, he had turned one of the rooms on the first floor into his personal study. He had planned to set up person specific wards for their individual rooms as well as the ones containing sensitive information. Thinking about it, he remembered that something akin to a holding cell should also find its place among the rooms…

Harry sighed. The two floors just wouldn't be enough, even when going all out on space enlargement charms. Probably, they needed to dig a basement for some of the more… interesting rooms. Maybe they could engage a muggle firm, but Harry wasn't yet able to access any gold from his Gringotts account — Dumbledore would notice.

"Good Evening, Harry."

He looked up from notes, and a smile appeared on his face. Remus still looked quite tired, but he seemed to have mostly recovered. The transformation had surprisingly brought only minor changes to his appearance. It seemed to have accelerated his hair growth as Remus was now rocking quite the beard for only one week of not shaving. It also looked a lot fuller than when Harry had picked him up from his alcohol binge. His hair had grown too, now reaching just short of his shoulders. His muscles seemed to have grown, but in a way you would only notice if you knew Remus beforehand. While he had always looked rather weak, you could now see some definition through the shirt he was wearing. But the thing standing out the most were his eyes that now shined a dark yellow instead of the brown-grey they had been before.

"How do you feel? Any urge to eat me? By the way, you should keep the hair and beard. A bit of grooming and the girls will chase you around like crazy."

Remus shot him a slightly annoyed look. "Are you impersonating James now? Actually, I feel quite well considering what you put me through."

"Perfect. You should go downstairs and eat something. I will come down in a bit. I have a few more things to discuss with you before we start working on the vows."

Remus's expression turned into a mixture of worry and amusement. "Any more surprises? Maybe a second dark lord lurking around the corner?"

"Not quite," Harry replied, "It's good news this time, though."

Remus nodded once and Harry quickly finished his notes for the next year before standing up and following the werewolf into the kitchen. Remus was quietly eating the soup Harry had made earlier, looking less weak with every bite he took. Making himself a cup of green tea, Harry quietly wondered how to address the subject of Sirius Black, when Remus cut him out of his musings.

"Whatever you have to say, just say it. I can handle it."

Harry sighed. "Sirius is innocently incarcerated inside Azkaban and Peter betrayed my parents to Voldemort."

Silence followed. Remus had stopped eating as soon as the name Sirius had fallen. His hands shivered and his eyes betrayed a mixture of hope and despair.

"How?" he croaked, slowly putting the spoon out of his hand, fearing it would just slip out of it.

"They switched the secret keeper at the last minute. Sirius suggested Peter might be able to just mostly hide inside his rat form, which was a brilliant idea by the way. Turns out Peter had been a death eater even before joining the order, making the dark mark take precedence over the order vows. For the last nine years he has lived as the Weasley's pet rat. I suspect he has them confounded every few years, so they don't get suspicious."

Harry could see that Remus wanted to jump out of his seat as soon as he had mentioned Peter. "We have to hand over Peter! It's the only possibility of freeing Sirius!"

Harry, now with finished tea in hand, sat down opposite of the agitated man, fixing him with a stare. "Come on, Remus. You are intelligent enough to know Sirius will never see the light of day, even if we hand over Peter directly in front of the minister with Rita Skeeter taking pictures of it."

"But we can't just let him rot in Azkaban!" Remus exclaimed, running his hand through his hair.

"Exactly. Therefore, we have about one year of time left to break him out," Harry grinned at Remus's perplexed expression, before continuing, "And before you say it is impossible, Sirius has done it himself in my third year at school. It rose quite the fuss."

"You suggest breaking into a highly secured fortress of an island littered with dementors with two people?"

"Well, we obviously need to get you up for the task first." Remus threw his hands into the air while Harry let out a quiet chuckle.

"But before that we have some vows to design."


	4. Chapter 04

**Author's Note:**

Thank You for your feedback on chapter 03! Have fun!

* * *

Time went by fast, far too fast for Harry's liking. He had hoped they would be a lot further in their plans by now. They had just finished the design for their headquarters, deciding to do all the remodelling themselves. Harry had been too paranoid to let any other person know that the ruins of the Potter home had stopped being abandoned. They had already started with the most important rooms, the first one had been finished a few days ago. Inside the new secret basement of the old Potters home, the first room had been designed for rituals or dangerous spell work of any kind. Thick layers of spells warded the walls from the rest of the house, so that any kind of magical backlash would not hit the rest of the house. It had been quite the hassle to set up, but Harry was proud of the end result. The room was completely empty, besides of some candles around the black stone floor. The walls also consisted of the same stone, as any other material would run the risk of clashing with difficult spell or ritual work.

Inside the room, three figures stood. Remus had his hand firmly clasped around Harrys, who gave him one last questioning look, to which Remus returned a silent nod. Beside them stood Hermione Granger, her eyes shining with wonder and excitement about the magic she now would be part of. She had helped Harry and Remus design the vows, and Harry had spent weeks helping her learn the necessary procedure for the magic. He had explained to her that her magic would instinctively know what to do, but a small part of her still feared she might do something wrong and mess everything up. She had recited the necessary words for days and days, even though she could remember them instantly after finishing their design with the two wizards.

"Hereby, I invoke the magics of old, binding Remus Lupin to the Order of the Unbound," the girls voice echoed through the room. She spoke loud and clear, no tremor evident in her voice, even though her hands had started to shake. Threads of magic started spreading around their clasped hands, lingering and waiting for her to continue. "As proxy for the Order of the Unbound stands Harry James Potter, Hermione Jane Granger bears witness to the binding." The magic threads, appearing as colouring lights started to intensify, swirling around their hands and up their arms, stopping around the halfway point between their wrist and their elbow.

"Do you, Remus Lupin, hereby swear to always act as a proxy for the order, in line with the orders wishes, and never purposely act against it, as far as your own conscience, morals, and capabilities allow?" she asked, her gaze locked on Remus. They had wrecked their minds a lot, on how to give themselves enough headroom for independent action, while at the same time not allowing any other bindings to slip into the cracks of the vows and force their hands. The last part of the vow did exactly that, which is why they put it into the end of every one of the three phrases.

"Yes, I swear," the werewolf answered, and a few threads started to fasten around their hands.

"Do you, Remus Lupin, hereby swear to protect and help members of the order whenever it is possible, to treat them like your own kin, and help them flourish as far as your own conscience, morals, and capabilities allow?"

"Yes, I swear."

Another set of swirling magic fastened, leaving one third still swirling around the air. Hermione was sure she could feel the magic at work, weighing around them like a thick fog. She was glad it was not her own magic used, or else she might have gotten a bad magical exhaustion before the vow even properly started. No, the magic brought forth through her was far older than herself, said to be donated by Merlin himself.

"Do you, Remus Lupin, hereby swear to pledge your life to destroying the Dark Lord Voldemort, to free the British citizens from their bindings, and usher in a new order magic, as declared by the order, as far as your own conscience, morals, and capabilities allow?"

"Yes, I swear."

The last tendril of magic fastened, pulsing around their hands and forearms, and Hermione waited for a few seconds, before speaking the last required words: "As you have sworn to the ancient magics, only death might take away your vow. So mote it be."

The magic pulsated one last time, before abruptly vanishing. Hermione felt as if a thick blanked had been lifted from her, and she couldn't stop herself from taking a big, long breath.

"Well done," Harry congratulated her, and his approving smile forced a grin onto her face that she couldn't hold back. Ever since her lessons started, and he had offered her the choice of taking these vows, explaining in detail every bit of hardship that might be associated with that choice, she couldn't help but grin at every approving word or smile he offered. It wasn't a choice she had to consider for long. There stood a wizard that had travelled back in time to offer her, the always belittled Hermione Granger, a chance to change an entire nation for the better. And he genuinely believed she could offer enough to significantly help that cause along. At first she had thought it had been pity that drove him to her doorstep, but he had quickly seen her doubts and said something no one had ever said to her—at least not seriously. "Hermione. You have enormous potential. I know that because I have seen what the future you was capable of without any outside help and thousands of obstacles in her way. Don't ever believe I am offering this out of pity. Yes, I want to help you as much as I can. But without you, our chances of success decrease… a lot."

"Well," Harry's voice cut her out of her musings, "one down, two to go."

-o-o-

With the vows done, Harry concentrated on the next big step: magical focuses for Remus and Hermione. He still periodically checked Kusznezow's hideouts, but for now to no avail. With the vows in check, he was thinking about just getting Hermione a wand from Ollivanders. While the tracing of her spell work outside of heavily warded places would be more than irritating, especially in the later years of her education, when the war would be in full effect, that was the only part of the trace that would be functioning. The rest would be deflected by their unbreakable vow.

Harry had long forgone the idea of trying to stop the war from ever breaking out. There was no way around it. In some aspect, it was actually what they needed to upheave the oppressive structures of the ministry. They needed chaos from which a new order could then emerge.

Still, Harry was hell bend on saving as many lives as humanly possible. And he also knew that in order to do that, they needed to apply lethal force. Death Eaters had been too often put into cells, just for them to be freed and back to killing people the next day. In peace time, trials were the way to go. He even was strictly against the death penalty. But in war, that mentality didn't apply.

Realising his thoughts had drifted again, he focused back on the wand problem. For Hermione, the Ollivanders wand might be a solution. She always resonated well with one, anyway. For Remus however, Harry thought that something else might be far more effective. Making up his mind, Harry made his way into the kitchen where Remus was often times to be found, especially in the early morning hours.

As he had predicted, Remus was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee pressed to his lips.

"I have an idea," Harry declared, sitting down on the opposite of the table. Remus smiled at him, motioning him with his hand to continue. "While practically all wizards inside Britain use wands as their magical focus, many other are used all around the world. Especially in older times, they ranged from runic tablets in Egypt, over shaman staffs of the native American's, to elemental stones deep inside the jungle of Africa. Actually, you can use practically anything as a focus, as long as there is intent behind it."

Remus nodded, having heard at least some of that through his own studies. He wondered where this was going. Surely Harry wasn't suggesting him to use runic tablets for his spell work.

"As you probably know," Harry continued, "the focus of the individual witch or wizard becomes an extension of his magical core. The more in tune the wizard is with his focus, the better the results. Often times, parts of magical creatures are used as part of the focus. Luckily, we have a magical creature that fits you… a lot."

"Are you suggesting making a wand out of a hair from my werewolf form?" Remus asked, brows furrowed at that thought. While he was working a lot on integrating that part of himself that he had loathed for such a long time, marking his wand with that curse… didn't sit well with him. A scowl passed his face thinking about that primal part of him. A monster inside him, lurking just beneath the surface. To be honest, he was glad when nothing except some of his muscles and hair had changed after that ritual he had undergone. While Harry had been quite disappointed when they found no similar abilities to Greyback, Remus had felt relief. It was hard enough to deal with the ever more present werewolf inside him, pushing primal urges and instincts into his mind, he didn't need physical proof that he was a monster in disguise.

"Something similar, yes. I knew you wouldn't be thrilled about it," Harry's voice held a compassionate tone, his eyes soft, so much like Lilly's had always been.

"Isn't there another way?" he asked, hoping it didn't sound too pleading.

"There is," Harry answered holding up his hands with the two silver rings on them, "Several, in fact. But none so effective and useful as an actual part of your inner wolf would be."

Remus groaned. The oath he had sworn several days before etched inside his mind. Was this a price he was willing to pay for their goals? The selfish part inside himself declined, but the much larger part, the part that dearly wanted to help his best friends son in every way possible, that part knew it was a small price to pay.

"You said something similar?" he asked.

"I had thought about something like a fang. I am not well versed enough in wand crafting for an actual wand. But I'm good in imbuing things with magic. Your smile would however loose a bit of its touch."

Harry's chuckled, but Remus couldn't find it in himself to smile.

"These," again Harry motioned to the rings on his fingers, "were a bit of a mishap. Done too rashly, but I needed a focus. We have more time to plan yours. It should work for you far more effective than your old wand."

Remus nodded, resignation etched on his face. But what was a tooth against the life of countless others? "A small price to pay," he reminded himself again.

-o-o-

Hermione grinned at the small smile on her parents faces. In her hand shined a silver needle, were only moments before had been a matchstick. She knew her parents were far from thrilled about the whole situation, but her delight at completing Harry's tasks always brought at least a small genuine smile onto their faces.

Harry had spent many evenings at the Granger household, talking with their parents about the wizarding world, laws, and many other things. Although he always came as his adult persona and did not tell them the full story of his time travel. Even though the chance was quite small, even the possibility of someone taking it from their minds was a risk too high. Which was why the first thing Harry had her working on was Occlumency. She trained her shields every day for hours, and Harry had said they were coming along nice, but the pressure of having less than a year to keep people like Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard if the modern age out of her mind, was taxing.

"You don't have to keep out a full force attack. Dumbledore wouldn't do that. The most he will do is brush against your shields, and even that is a low possibility," Harry had explained.

But when Harry had explained to her, that their Defence instructor would be Voldemort himself, she panicked.

"Surely Voldemort is a Legilimens too?!" she had explained, fear evident in her voice.

"Yes, even better than Dumbledore. But he needs direct eye contact for that, and as his eyes rest on the back of Quirrel's head, he won't be able to. And if Quirrel by chance knows any Legilimency, he won't be proficient enough at it to get past your shields without blowing his cover, which he won't do."

"Those are quite a lot of assumptions." she had answered, uncertain.

"We have to take some chances. And the reward of having you completely in the loop are far greater than the tiny risk it poses."

Warmth had spread through her chest at that statement. He was always talking like she was important for this. She had never felt important in her life, ever. And she would do everything in her might to prove to him that his assumptions weren't wrong. Harry knew the future Hermione and he said she had a potential far above the average wizard. She would not waste that.

"Didn't you say Mr. Potter expected this to take you at least a month?" her mother asked, "It has barely been a week."

Hermione just grinned. Today Harry would be coming over to see her progress and had she spent the whole week on about five hours sleep a day to finish this task before he arrived.

Just in that moment, the doorbell rang, signalling Harry's arrival. Hermione could hear her mother greeting him at the door, and a few moments later she found herself inside her room, proudly showing her needle to the time traveling wizard.

A big smile was to be seen on Harry's face. "I know you were good, but this is… more than extraordinary." Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "Most adult wizards aren't able to do this wandless. Heck, it took me weeks to do when I had already mastered it with a wand years ago."

"Do we try my shields next?" she asked, her voice giddy with excitement.

Harry nodded, finding her eyes with his own. Hermione took a moment to brace herself and could then feel the slight probing at her shields. Harry raised an eyebrow, and she could the force of his attack slowly increase. Her brows furrowed in concentration and for a moment she thought she was able to keep him out, but then memories poured through her mind. It was one of the times she had been bullied at school, the mean faces of her tormentors grinning at her crying form, a staple of books held to her chest as if they could shield her from the foul words of those boys.

A second later it was over, and she leaned over forwards, panting. "Well done," Harry intoned, but Hermione's face still showed disappointment.

"I... couldn't… keep you out," she said, frustrated.

"I don't expect you to. You are far ahead of schedule. Be proud of yourself."

She nodded solemnly, her breathing slowly returning to normal rates. She hated not being able to do something. Her skill in whatever she applied herself to had always been her only anchor, and now her magic was starting to fill that role. She wouldn't, no she couldn't fail this. She couldn't disappoint Harry.

"The next step in wandless magic would be a levitation charm," Harry said, "But don't complete it in a week again, or I will run out of things to teach you."

He laughed, and she couldn't help but do the same. Out of his robes he took a small staple of books, handing them to her. "One of these outlines basic charms, the other ones are on laws, customs, and history of the magical world."

She looked at the book in wonder and a little bit of dread. He instantly saw her expression. "You won't like what is written inside these books, and this is just the tip of the iceberg. The really important stuff isn't written in books. I will start teaching you about them as soon as you have these finished."

She nodded as he stood up from his chair. "Well, I have to cut this short. We are working on Remus' focus."

Again, she nodded, a little disappointed. But the books sitting next to her were already waiting to be read, and then Harry would start with the real important lessons. So, she could now spend the next days with her once favourite, now second favourite activity—reading. The rest would be spent with her new beloved pastime—magic.

-o-o-

Once again, Harry found himself sitting in the kitchen with Remus, contemplating their next steps. The house renovations were going slow but steady. Harry had just updated Remus on Hermione's progress, which always brought visible amazement onto the face of the werewolf. Remus focus however, was a matter they hadn't quite figured out yet.

"You know, my brewing skills aren't that great. At least, the wolfsbane is far out of my capabilities," Harry said, sighing, "I really would like to avoid trying to pick a tooth from an enraged werewolf."

Remus didn't look like he had a solution ready, so Harry just continued with his thinking out loud. "Buying it is out of the question, we don't have the money. There isn't really anyone we could approach for it, too. We could try to secure you before the transformation and hope for the best…"

Remus looked more than alarmed. "You aren't actually suggesting that?"

Harry just shrugged. "If you have a better idea, go ahead. I'm all ears."

Remus shot him a look that roughly held the message of 'have you gone completely insane'. Harry just countered with a small smile.

"You are seriously suggesting picking the tooth of a werewolf without the help of wolfsbane," Remus asked, still completely perplexed by Harry even thinking about that course of action.

"Yes," Harry answered nonchalantly.

"You know one little scrap would turn you into a werewolf, if you are lucky and survive the toxins?" Remus asked.

"Yes," Harry answered again, seemingly unconcerned by the madness he was suggesting.

"You are insane," Remus declared.

"I know," Harry let loose a short laugh, before his face turned serious again. "Well, we should start planning so I, you know, don't die."

Remus let his head bang on the table. What had he gotten himself into?


	5. Chapter 05

**Author's Note:**

So here is chapter five! I hope someone has fun reading this! I am delighted over every review!

* * *

Conveniently, the ritual and spell room was more than capable of holding a werewolf in check. Harry stood in front of the closed door, listening in on when Remus would start his transformation. It didn't take long before painful grunts could be heard, which promptly turned into screaming, then howling. He could hear the werewolf struggling against the chains that they had wrapped tightly around Remus' body.

Carefully, he opened the door, peeking into the room. The werewolf was enraged, wrenching at the chains, but for now they seemed to hold him. Taking a few large steps towards the beast, Harry tried approaching it as much as he safely could. He needed a powerful cutting curse to even penetrate the beast's magic resistance, and it needed to be very carefully aimed, to not seriously injure Remus. He would strike from the left side, so that the curse would not hit the wolf's head after cutting off the tooth.

The werewolf snapped at him, but Harry was still about a meter away from his striking range. He waited until Remus was pulling his head to the other side, then raised his hand in one swift motion.

Sectumsempra!" he intoned, the curse leaving his fingertips, cutting neatly through the beast's mouth. One large fang clattered onto the ground and Harry summoned it with a quick wave of his hand. Blood was pouring from Remus' mouth, and he was howling in pain and rage. Although he was losing a lot of blood, Harry was quite sure he hadn't seriously hurt him. The increased healing factor every werewolf carried into the full moon would close the wound in a few minutes. There was a reason werewolves were hard to kill.

"Sorry Remus," Harry said, before quickly retreating, not fully trusting the chains to hold the enraged beast. Within a few steps he was out of the room, closing the door behind him. Harry let out the breath he had been holding. That was the hardest part done.

-o-o-

When Harry met Remus in the kitchen next day, he looked especially exhausted. A small scar was running alongside his mouth, but as Harry had thought, it had already healed completely. The fang they had acquired was laying between them on the table, ready to be used.

"I would suggest a similar ritual as I have used, using your blood as a secondary anchor to your magic," Harry said, "You will need a lot less than I did, as it is already imbued with your magical signature. Before that you should craft a handle for it. Wood would work, but iron should be just as effective and a lot more durable. If we sharpen the side of the fang, it could also be used as a blade in close combat. I suggest you take some lessons on how to handle a blade, preferably non-magical. Those are far better than the magical counterparts."

Remus nodded, not really in the mood for words. The days after the full moon were always extremely tiring, and this night had been one of the worst. The wolf had raged the whole night, not liking to be bound at all. Remus could still feel the beast inside him fuming. He was sure he would feel the aftereffects of last night for the next few full moons.

-o-o-

Every time Harry visited Hermione, he got more and more astounded at her progress. Thinks that took the average adult wizard months of practice, took her days or weeks. He had known she was a genius, but this exceeded all of his expectations. Sometimes, he thought that she alone could have turned the tides of the war if she didn't…

But that was not a train of thought where he wanted to go right now. She was alive and well, it didn't matter what had happened in his past life.

Today he would start her lessons on magical society. It was a topic that was hard to discuss, the knowledge had been acquired with a lot of sacrifices. Every piece of information was tightly linked to a tragic event in his life. Blood, limbs, dignity, and even lives had been lost in its pursuit.

Harry sat down opposite of Hermione, who eagerly waited, legs crossed in front of her. Harry took a moment to mentally prepare himself, then started explaining.

"Magical Britain runs on so called magical bindings. These are specific spells and vows used to monitor and control every witch or wizard, from birth to death, They originate from the times of Merlin, where witches and wizards were in constant battle with each other. They were meant as a tool to form alliances, ensure trust, and build a regulating force of witches and wizards. Thus, the Wizengamot was founded, and around that, what is now the ministry of magic formed."

Harry paused for a second, sipping on his coffee, before continuing.

"The first piece of that magic every wizard or witch receives is the trace. For known magicals, it is applied shortly after birth, for muggleborns it comes with their first purchase of a wand. It has several functions: First, it monitors every piece of magic done by the individual outside of heavy warded areas. Second, it monitors the position of the witch or wizard, also only if they do not currently reside in a heavily warded area. Third, and this is the most important part of the trace, the trace has a strong compulsion built into it to follow the orders of any ministry official, or any other figure of authority that is recognized as such by the ministry of magic. As such count Wizengamot members, Hogwarts staff, and any higher-ranking employee of the ministry of magic. The tricky part about it is that you do not feel the compulsion urging you, it just feels like your normal thinking progress, when in fact, your entire decision making has been hijacked. And while it is possible to decide against these 'suggestion', it happens rather rarely, because you are not able to distinguish your own thoughts from the compelled ones, even if you do know about the real working of the trace, which most people do not."

Hermione's eyes had opened wider and wider with every sentence he spoke. Her mouth was opened slightly in shock, her eyes angrily furrowed together.

"This…this…" she fumbled for words, but Harry beat her to it.

"Sadly, this is only the beginning. This is the first compulsion weaved into the minds of the British citizens, and it is by far the most forgiving. Luckily your vow will protect you from it, because it always has precedence over anything else cast by or on you."

"Does…" Hermione's eyes darted to the sight, not meeting his eyes, "Does my vow also infect my thinking?"

Harry had thought she would ask that. It was one thing vowing something, even on the cost of your life, but having your own free will taken from you was far worse for most people.

"No, it doesn't. I explained every detail of those vows to you. The fact that acting against it invokes death makes it unnecessary for to urge you to do anything, and the clauses you came up with even give us plenty of room to make our own decisions."

"That is why you named it the Order of the Unbound," Hermione whispered, more to herself than to him, "At first I had thought it was a joke, but actually…through our vow we are the only ones not bound by the ministry, are we?"

Harry sighed. "Sadly, Voldemort also counts himself under the not bound wizards in England, and through his dark mark he can urge his followers to work around their bindings."

"What about ministry officials and the professors at Hogwarts? What about Albus Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, fearing the answer.

"Dumbledore…is a special case. We will talk about that later. With anyone in authority, they take vows not unsimilar to ours. They don't do the unbreakable vow, but ones that are just as effective. They only learn about them right before they are about to take them, and the trace urges them to just accept. The vows they take…are extremely specific, sometimes pages long, and they always make it impossible to tell other about them. Anyone in power is but a marionette of the system."

"So, the minister of magic is what, an almighty overlord?" That didn't make sense to Hermione. From what she had gathered in books and comments from Harry, the minister wasn't always seen favourably. That would not happen if he was controlling Britain like a master puppeteer.

"The minister is just as bound as any other," Harry explained, "bound to the decisions of the Wizengamot and the laws passed inside the ministry. He is magically barely above a squib and has the backbone of an octopus. He listens to what others tell him and that is mostly Lucius Malfoy, a death eater who isn't officially working at the ministry, but everyone knows he has the minister's ear. Sometimes Dumbledore can urge the minister on specific matters, because Fudge is a coward and Dumbledore immensely powerful, but those moments are few and far between."

Hermione gulped, realising the extent of what they were facing. Her hands started shaking, her breathe quickened, fear overwhelming her. Harry's hand on her shoulder startled her back into the here and now. "Hermione, I will never ask anything of you outside your capabilities, and we will protect you for as long as you need that protection. And if at any point, you feel like you want to take your parents and leave, there is nothing and no one that can stop you."

"But…the vow," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

"As far as your conscience, morals and capabilities allow, not one step further," Harry's calm voice declared, "Leaving with your parents to safety is a conscious and moral decisions you have every right, and every possibility to make."

Hermione nodded, but the tears did not stop rolling down her cheeks. "Harry, do you think I am a coward?"

Harry didn't waste a second before answering, "No Hermione, you are young, raised in peace time, and you just realised what we are up against. Fear is a natural response."

A sob escaped Hermione's lips, before she swung her arms around Harry, pressing her head into his chest. "I won't back down. I will fight. I can't let this atrocity continue."

"I know," Harry just answered, gently stroking her hair, "I know."

-o-o-

Harry regarded the finished focus in Remus' hand. The sleek metal hilt, covered in runes, just like his rings and the polished blade made out of the werewolf's fang, at the same time gleaming and opaque.

"Well, cast something," Harry urged, his eyes shining with excitement.

Remus cast a weary look at his new blade, before casting a silent hovering charm at a nearby cup. The cup rose, but only painfully slow and sank down just a moment later. Harry frowned.

"Again," he ordered. Maybe Remus hadn't put enough power into the spell?

This time Remus said the incantation out loud, and the cup rose slightly faster. However, it still looked like an attempt from a first-year student.

"How does it feel?" Harry asked.

"Forced, like there is resistance I have to overcome," Remus answered looking crestfallen.

Harry cut back a curse. He had expected this blade to be more than effective for Remus. After all it held even more of the wolf's magical signature than the rings held his own.

"I don't understand…" Harry murmured, lettings himself fall back onto the chair behind him, "this should have worked."

Remus silently sat down next to him, letting his fingers wander over the blade. "I guess this has to do for now," he said, "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Harry shook his head. "You haven't done anything wrong; the process was flawless. I don't know why it is resisting your magic. We don't have time to find something else right now, though. This will have to do. We have a few weeks to get ourselves comfortable with each other's duelling styles. I also want to to introduce you to a few of my more…outlandish spells. Have you found someone to teach you on how to use a knife?"

Remus nodded. "There is a dojo in a city nearby, they teach hand to hand combat but also use of different weapons. I have my first lesson in a week."

"Good, we can incorporate that in our duelling practice then. There are a lot of things we still have to plan, but we should be able to get Sirius out one or two months before term starts."

Remus faced turned grim. The mention of Sirius rotting inside Azkaban always put him in a foul mood. "If we don't end up there ourselves."


	6. Chapter 06

**Author's Note:**

Thank you all for your feedback! I am delighted over every review, follower and favourite! I hope you have fun reading this. A little more action today!

* * *

"The letters have not been answered, Albus. Are you really sure I shouldn't check up on the boy myself?" Minerva McGonagall asked, an edge of worry in her voice. Her eyes were keenly focused on the person she was talking to. Albus Dumbledore, sitting comfortably behind is desk, his head resting on his folded hands, returned her gaze with twinkling eyes and calm demeanour.

"No, Minerva, I don't think that would be the best course of action. Hagrid wi-" the headmasters answer was interrupted by the fireplace suddenly flaring a bright green. A head appeared inside it and promptly began speaking in an urgent tone of voice: "Someone broke into Azkaban and attacked the ministry! Sirius Black escaped." As soon as the last word left the head's voice, it vanished again, leaving behind a concerned looking Albus Dumbledore and a shocked Minerva McGonagall.

A few seconds passed, while the headmaster supposedly pondered the news. Minerva knew not to interrupt his thinking, it tended to…disorient her old colleague and mentor for some reason. So she waited, and after what seemed to her like a few minutes, the old wizard began to speak again.

"Well, I will send Hagrid in the coming days, He will take young Harry to get his school supplies," Dumbledore continued their previous conversation as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"But...-" Minerva didn't even know what she wanted to address. The recent breakout, or Hagrid's unsuitability to accompany the boy-who-lived. Sometimes, she wondered if Albus really was going mad. His peculiar behaviour had gotten much better since the end of the war, but the last few weeks it had started to intensify again.

"If you could please start preparing your classes. I have a few things that need to be taken care of." The headmaster fixated her with a small smile that clearly stated that this conversation was over.

"Of course," Minerva sighted, turning around and leaving behind a silent headmaster, who seemed to fall back into deep thought as soon as the door closed behind her.

-o-o-

 _ **5 hours earlier…**_

A strange sight would have greeted the passing muggles, if the carefully placed charms to hide one of the ministry entrances would have suddenly stopped working. Two men were standing inside a telephone booth, which barely had enough room for them. One of the two was in the process of opening a small suitcase, while the other was scanning the area around them carefully, one hand deep inside the pocket of his trench coat.

"You know you do not have to look out for anyone Remus? The illusion around us is failproof. Not even the strongest wards would detect, or disturb it. As long as we do not meet either Dumbledore or Voldemort on the way, nobody should be able to detect it." Harry said, while taking three stuffed animals out of the suitcase, slowly turning them around, as if inspecting their quality.

"You know, by now I have seen quite a lot of your illusions, but its still something else relying on them while walking into the ministry of magic to break into one of the best guarded places inside the country," Remus countered, looking at the stuffed animals with a mixture of curiosity and scepticism.

"Well, that's the advantage of learning obscure branches of magic that no one really knows anything about. First, nobody knows what to expect, and therefore nobody knows how to deal with it. And second, they are much more fun than ordinary spell work," Harry said with a grin on his face, "It's sad we won't have time to see this. You would enjoy the show."

"And why again, did you choose to study illusions and necromancy? I mean before I met you, I didn't even know illusions were an actual branch of magic, and necromancy…is just…I mean…come on, raising the undead?" Remus' face turned into a little grimace.

"Well, when you have to kill someone that primary focuses on trying to escape death, you tend to study death a lot. It just so happened that the study of life and death started to become quite interesting after the introductory bit… and really useful too! And necromancy is a field much larger than just raising the undead into soulless corpses. That is beginners' stuff," Harry paused for a few seconds, before continuing, "I was just incredibly lucky to get to learn illusions. It's really only practiced in Albania inside a magical city hidden so well, no living being could ever find it without knowing of its existence. It just so happened that good old half-ghost Voldemort wasn't actually alive, and upon finding the city, promptly pissed of their elders by trying to possess one of their children. They also just so happened to have an old seer among them, who told them that I was the one destined to destroy Voldemort. So, when I was visiting Albania in search for his Horcruxes, they approached me."

Remus chuckled. "You know, really unlikely coincidences really seem to shape your life."

Harry, in turn, didn't chuckle. "It would be nice if it would just be the good coincidences, sadly most of the time it's incredibly bad ones."

"Then let's hope this day stays coincidence free," Remus said, his face now serious.

"Well, one can always hope."

Harry handed one of the animals to Remus, then taking out two vials of potion out of the suitcase. They drowned the freshly brewed Polyjuice und therefore quickly added a new layer of security to their endeavour. Harry did not think that his glamour would fail, but if now somehow the image of the two Unspeakables they represented would fail, they would just look like two random ministry clerks.

A few dials into the number pad later, the floor beneath them started to slowly sink into the ground. Shortly after that, Harry and Remus found themselves in the Atrium of the ministry of magic. Purposely, they strode forward, and when passing the fountain in the middle of the hall, Harry quickly deposited one of the animals inside it. It was a cute little giraffe, covered in a glamour which rendered it completely invisible. At least for the time being.

Harry took a look at his watch directly afterwards, noting the time in his head.

Nobody spared them any notice as they entered the next available lift. It was quite cramped inside, which suited them well. When it passed floor two, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Remus dropped his invisible stuffed monkey directly on the entrance to the department. Harry took another look at his watch. Good, the timing fit.

After a few other stops, the lift started heading towards the Department of Mysteries, where the only real entrance to Azkaban was located: A floo connection directly to the warden's office. Harry knew that Voldemort had sieged the wards from outside the island, but brooms just stopped working when heading towards it, and Harry had never been able to replicate Voldemort's ability of unaided flight. Remus and him both also lacked an Animagus form, so swimming or flying like that was out of the question too. That left only the floo. It was always guarded by at least one Auror, but even Harry alone should not have any problems overwhelming him. With Remus alongside him, that part would be child's play. The hard part wasn't getting into Azkaban, it was getting out. They could only use the same floo they came from, and the passage to Azkaban would immediately ring all kinds of alarms inside the Department of Law Enforcement. They needed to hurry, and they needed something to keep the Auror's busy long enough so that they could grab Sirius, head back to the floo, and out of the ministry undetected.

Harry smirked. His little friends should take care of that quite well.

When Harry and Remus entered the room that contained the floo to Azkaban, the Auror on duty wasn't even able to raise his wand arm, before two stunners dropped him to the floor. They always stationed the trainees here as a punishment. Nobody expected anyone actually trying to break into the wizarding prison.

Remus took a handful of floo powder and dropped it unceremoniously into the flames. Both of them took a step directly in front of the fireplace, but not before Harry had dropped the third animal (a quite plushie teddy bear). Harry carefully regarded his watch, waiting patiently for the designated time.

"The first one should be active now," he mumbled more to himself than to Remus.

"You are sure they won't seriously hurt anyone?" Remus asked, a tint of worry showing on his features.

"They follow my orders quite precisely, and their orders are to cause a ruckus without harm." Harry answered, trying to keep the slight tone of annoyance out of his voice. This was the third time he had to reassure the werewolf, and if he was completely honest with himself, he did not like people questioning his skills. Especially as these creations took him the better half of the year to create.

"Here goes number two," he informed Remus, before they took a step forward and chorused "Azkaban", vanishing in a bout of green flames.

-o-o-

"Attack inside the Atrium!"

The screaming Auror trainee, followed by the sound of a blaring siren, caught most of the Aurors currently inside their office by surprise. Kingsley Shacklebolt was one of the few that immediately jumped out of their seat, waiting for their boss, Rufus Scrimgeour, to bellow out commands.

The department head didn't waste much time and came running out of his office, wand positioned at his throat, speaking loud and clearly through his magically amplified voice: "Kingsley, Dawlish, Proudfoot! Take your teams and sort this out!"

Kingsley and Proudfoot both had the two Aurors stationed under their watch already beside them and started heading towards the lifts. Dawlish, still sitting at his desks looked confused, taking a few seconds to gather himself, before clumsily following the two, totally forgetting about his team. The two trainees followed him nonetheless, which left Scrimgeour with seven remaining Aurors inside the office. The rest of the magical equivalent of the police were currently outside the ministry building, but those were only a handful. Budget cuts left the department quite understaffed, especially considering the many Aurors that died during the last war.

As soon as Scrimgeour turned his back to the lifts, determined to sit down at his desk and wait for the interrogation of whichever idiot tried to fire spells inside the ministry, a scream of one of his Aurors startled him back into action. Whipping around, the seasoned Auror nearly tumbled back a few steps at the sight that greeted him.

In front of him stood a grotesque, monkey-like figure, towering over him. It was roughly the size of a troll, dead black eyes staring at him on a face that held a grimace which looked like someone had tried to reproduce a smile simply on instruction, but never having seen one before. Black goo leaked from his mouth and several cracks on the body, as if someone had blown the poor thing up from the inside, and glued it back together using that dark liquid.

Scrimgeour quickly composed himself, his hand moving forward, wand snapping out of his robes inside it. A silent diffindo started racing towards the creature's neck, followed by four cutting spells to the creature's appendages in quick succession. When those didn't seem to cause any harm to the monkey, the department head tried a darker variant of the cutting spell, while shouting at the Auror's behind him. "Don't just stand there! Move! Savage, we are going to lure it into the middle of the room."

At that moment, another blaring alarm echoed through the room, slightly different from the first one. Everyone recognized its meaning in an instant: The floo to Azkaban had been used. "Shit!" Scrimgeour cursed, "It's a distraction! We need to finish this thing fast!"

-o-o-

Harry and Remus were purposefully striding through the wizarding prison. In front of them a white stag and a wolf lead the way, holding the dementors at bay. There were no human guards inside the prison. Anyone taking that shift for more than a few days would need to recover for weeks, and as the only entrance to the island was the floo, no human guards were needed on this side.

They needed to hurry, as Harry wasn't sure how long his creations could hold off the Aurors. As soon as they realised that Necromancy was used, fire might quickly reduce his little friends to ash.

"Oh god…" Remus mumbled, as he spotted the familiar form of a dog inside the next cell. It looked worse than the most mistreated street dog he had ever seen. So skinny, every rib was painfully visible, spots of fur were missing all over. Remus didn't want to imagine how Sirius looked in human form right now. With a quick wave of his knife, the door swung open, a second later a stunner shot from Harry's hands, making sure Sirius would not be awake for their journey back. Remus hurried forward taking the dog into his arms.

"I need a few minutes to weave an adequate illusion around him," Harry said, already waving his hands around Sirius. Remus just stood there, speechless at the state of his friend. He had known Azkaban was bad; he had known most prisoners went insane in the span of a few years but seeing it with his own eyes was insanely disturbing.

After what felt like hours to Remus, Harry had his Patronus back up next to his wolf, and the two of them quickly made their way back towards the floo, hoping there wouldn't be a welcoming team of Aurors on the other side.

-o-o-

Scrimgeour was running out of ideas and more importantly, out of time. He had tried nearly every spell in his arsenal, even curses more than a little over the edge to the dark arts, but the thing in front of him either just shrugged off the curse, or regenerated within seconds, the black goo filling any hole or cut he had been able to inflict on it.

"What is this thing?!" one of the Aurors screamed, frustrated, scared and angry at the same time. He was new to the corps, just finishing his apprenticeship a few months ago. "Fuck you and your overgrown ass smile, go back to where you came from and burn in hell!"

At that statement, a lightbulb inside Scrimgeour's head seemed to ignite. "Fire!", he shouted, "Try fire! Incendio on the count of three! One, two, three!"

A chorus of Incendios echoed through the Department of Law Enforcement and the monkey erupted into a ball of flames. It started screaming and trashing, and the Auror's needed to take quick steps to the edges of the room to escape its swinging arms.

"Good. Keep it up!" Scrimgeour ordered, adding a stronger version of the fire spell into the mix. It took minutes of focused shellfire, but what remained of the intruder was only a puddle of ash and goo!

"Move! All of you to the Azkaban floo! Savage, you go to the Atrium and if it's the same kind of monster there, tell them to use fire!" Scrimgeour shouted, his face twisted into an angry visage.

When Scrimgeour and his team of Aurors arrived in front of the Azkaban floo, a smiling goo bear made him use a string of curse words he hadn't used in years.

-o-o-

When Harry and Remus stepped out of the floo, the room was still empty beside of Harry's creation. Swiftly, they stepped around it and through the door, heading towards the lift. As soon as they stepped inside it and it started moving upwards, they could see Scrimgeour and around six Aurors stepping out of the lift next to them, sparing them a short glance, before quickly moving towards Harry's little friend.

"It's a good thing Unspeakables have that much authority nobody dares questioning them," Harry murmured. Remus nodded, his whole body tensed up from that encounter, still holding the unconscious dog in his arm.

When the lift stopped inside the Atrium, they could see three teams of Auror's starting to shoot fire at the giraffe towering over them. It was more than luck when nobody noticed them heading for the guest exits, as the Atrium was completely void of people, but the giraffe fulfilled its purpose and kept all eyes on itself.

As they left the telephone booth, a few quick chain-apparations left them safe inside the wards of the Potter home, and Remus nearly had his legs give away as the adrenaline left his body. Gathering himself, he gently put Sirius' frail form onto the couch, before sitting on a chair next to him.

"I can't believe it worked," he sighed looking at Sirius, "welcome home my friend." Harry just silently stood next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"We will get him back into shape. Give him a few months, and he will be back to cracking jokes all day." Harry reassured Remus, who just nodded solemnly.


	7. Chapter 07

**Author's Note:**

Hello and Thank You for Every Favourite, Follow and Review. I hope you enjoy this short chapter before we start heading off to Hogwarts.

* * *

Harry and Remus had decided it would be best for Remus to greet Sirius when he awoke. A familiar face would help to calm the possibly disoriented Animagus. So, Remus stayed at Sirius' side, and when the dog began to slowly stir, Remus locked eyes with the dog and shot him a small smile.

"Hello Padfoot," he said, as calmly as he could. The dog's eyes were instantly on him and a moment later, Sirius sat where the dog had been.

"Moo-" Sirius tried to exclaim, but his voice cracked from lack of use and he fell into a heavy coughing fit. Remus' face turned into a grimace and he patiently waited for Sirius to calm down again, knowing better than to approach him too quickly.

"You are safe," he said instead, keeping the tremor out of his voice as best as he could.

When Sirius finally stopped coughing, he looked at Remus for a few long moments. Then, tears started streaming from his eyes.

"I…I didn't…Peter…" he whispered, his hands gripping the couch he said upon, his fingers tearing into the fabric, "Oh god…James…"

"I know, Padfoot. I know you are innocent," Remus simply said, standing up and approaching Sirius, careful to keep his movements slow and steady. When Sirius didn't seem to freak out, he put his arms around his friend, pulling him into an embrace. Sirius clung to him like a drowning man would cling to a swimming piece of wood, weeping into his shoulder. Remus just held him, close to tears himself at the state of his childhood friend. He knew all the emotions the Dementors had sucked out of Sirius were now springing to the surface, the unprocessed trauma of that Halloween night no longer dulled from the soul-sucking beings.

Remus didn't know how long they stayed like that, Sirius crying into his shoulder. It could have been minutes, or it could have been an hour. Remus didn't care. Sirius was finally here and could start to recover. Ever since he knew of his innocence, every day the image of Padfoot in Azkaban had haunted him. Every day, he hoped the day they would get him would come sooner. The preparations had taken longer than they expected though, and now Harry was only days ago from heading off to Hogwarts. But now, all of that didn't matter, because Sirius was finally safe.

When Sirius had calmed down somewhat, only a single word left his mouth: "How?"

And so, Remus started explaining. How Harry had found him, the time travel, the oath and their plan. Of how Voldemort had survived and his horcruxes, and the prophecy. Sirius listened with wide eyed, letting the information sink in. As Remus had finished explaining, Sirius just sat there, overwhelmed by all that new information, but one thing was clearly visible on his face - determination.

"Where is Harry now?" he asked.

Harry took that cue to walk into the room, flashing his godfather a big smile.

"Hello there, Sirius," Sirius jumped from the couch, pulling his godson into a tight embrace.

"Thank you…thank you both," he breathed out letting go of Harry and switching his gaze between Remus and Harry, "Can I…take the oath?"

"Now?" Harry asked, still smiling.

"Yes," Sirius answered, "I owe you my life, and pledging the rest of it to help my godson is everything I want to do right now."

"Well, then let's get started." Harry said, motioning Remus to act as the witness. "I presume you know that the dementor influence is the factor that renders your previous bindings useless?"

"Yes," Sirius nodded, "While I never got along well with my father, he did instruct me on many topics including the ins and outs of the bindings of old. The Black's were always eager to escape them and swear oaths to the family. There were a few cases of my ancestors purposely spending some time in Azkaban to shed them, which was a big factor of us being labelled as a notoriously dark family."

Harry blinked. That information was new to him. Sirius, as the last surviving black had died too early to tell him.

"We should compare our knowledge, maybe you know ways that I don't." he said, eager at the opportunity to maybe free more people early than he had thought possible.

Sirius shook his head, frowning. "That was the only way we knew of."

Harry sighed. "Nonetheless, any information on the bindings is important. But first, lets get the oath out of the way, and then we get you something to eat."

Sirius nodded, and Harry could see a small glint of excitement in the Animagus' eyes. It would take time before Sirius would recover from his stay in Azkaban, but Harry was sure, now more than ever, that he would fine.

-o-o-

Today was the day the last member of their order would be hopefully welcomed in their midst. This one was, next to Hermione, the one Harry was most unsure about. Hagrid would be visiting the Dursleys today, and Harry and Remus would be expecting him there. If Hagrid decided against joining them, they would have a huge problem. As a half giant, Hagrid was incredibly magic resistant. Most charms were useless against him; a stunner would be simply shrugged off, as would most other spells. This unfortunately meant that memory charms would be just as ineffective. But what was most incredible about Hagrid's half giant status was his immunity to any binding that he didn't voluntarily undertook. Harry was sure that this was the real reason Hagrid had been conveniently expelled. Any competent Auror should have deduced that his Acromantula was not the culprit of Myrtle's murder, but the opportunity most likely had been far too good to simply ignore. His lack of magical education made him far less of a threat to the ministry. It was a miracle Dumbledore had been able to keep him inside Hogwarts as the groundkeeper at all.

Harry and Remus walked up to Number 4, Privet Drive early in the morning. Harry hadn't been sure when exactly Hagrid would arrive, so they decided to better be too early than too late. Harry was glad that the wards on their house in Godric's Hollow were built for wartime, shielding them even from the scrying mechanisms of Hogwarts letters, which meant the last known home location would be used, so in this case, his aunt's and uncle's house.

With a quick wave of his wand, the door unlocked in front of them. Remus and Harry stepped into the house, closing the door behind them. A moment later they came face to face with an enraged looking Petunia, who had been alerted by the noise of the door opening and closing.

"You!" she screeched, "How dare you show your face here afte-"

Swifty, a body bind froze his aunt in place, shock plastered onto her face. Dudley and Vernon seemed to not currently be at home, as none of them came storming into the hall after Petunia.

"Hello Petunia," Harry said to the frozen women, "No worries, we will be gone before you know it and after that, you won't see me ever again."

Harry then turned to Remus. "How about we get ourselves a cup of coffee while we wait for Hagrid?" Remus nodded, following Harry, who had already started walking towards the kitchen.

They sat there mostly in silence, both of them slightly nervous about the coming talk with Hagrid. Although many thought otherwise, Hagrid wasn't dumb. However, he wasn't the most strategic of persons, thinking a lot more with his heart than his mind. He tended to be impulsive, and because Hagrid knew those faults of his, he rather let other people make important decisions for him. This, however, was a decision he had to make on his own. It was of vital importance that Dumbledore wasn't informed yet on their order, because his bindings would force him into actions that neither Harry, nor Dumbledore would like. So, Harry hoped, that if Hagrid decided against joining them, he would at least agree on an oath of silence.

When Harry took a sip of his second cup of coffee, a loud knock at the front door shook him out of his musings. "Well, here goes nothing!" he exclaimed, standing up and walking towards the front door, Remus following behind him. When he opened the door, a beaming Hagrid looked at him.

"Harry! Man, yeh have grown…The last time I saw yeh, you were this tiny lad, yeh know? Yeh don't remember tha', o' course. I…" he abruptly stopped talking, when he saw Remus standing behind Harry, and a look of confusion graced his face. "Re—I mean Mr. Lupin. I didn't expect yeh here. Did Dumbledore send yeh? 'm here to give Harry his Hogwarts letter. Was very surprised, when Dumbledore asked me, thought one o' the Professors would go…"

Harry had to stifle a laugh at Hagrid's familiar talkativeness. Remus stepped forwards, answering the half-giant. "Hello Hagrid, Remus is fine. I'm actually here to talk with you. It's a bit of a sensitive matter concerning Harry."

Hagrid still looked confused, and a tint of worry creeped into his expression. "If there is a problem, maybe yeh should go to Dumbledore, I'm ju-"

Remus politely held up a hand, stopping Hagrid mid-sentence. "Hagrid, I know this sounds a bid vague, but this is a matter concerning you and Harry, and it is important that you hear this first. If you could come inside, I can explain further."

Hagrid seemed to think for a moment, not looking really convinced. "Is this about Si…I mean Black?"

"No. Hagrid, you know me, we have spent enough time in your hut while we were at school. I wouldn't ask you if it weren't important."

Hagrid looked at Remus for another few seconds, before finally giving in. "Fine, I jus' don't want to cause any trouble. Dumbledore trusted me with bringin' Harry this letter, yeh know? Great man, Dumbledore."

"There will be no trouble Hagrid," Remus promised, stepping aside to let the huge man through the door. Hagrid had to duck to even get through it, and a moment later the three of them were sitting inside the living room of the Dursleys.

"I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic that everything I am about to say is, to the extend of my knowledge, the truth. As I swore so mote it be."

While Harry had spoken, a horrified look appeared on Hagrid's face. "Harry, yeh can't go meddlin' with those magics, do yeh-"

"Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed, with a bit more force than he intended, "Hagrid, I know. Please…just listen to what I have to say."

Hagrid looked surprise at the seriousness in Harry's tone. His gaze shifted between Harry and Remus, before staying on Harry for a few long seconds. Finally, he nodded.

And so, this time Harry explained everything from start to finish. There were several times when Hagrid looked like he wanted to interrupt him, but a short look always stopped him in his tracks. When Harry had finished, Hagrid seemed like he didn't really know what to say.

"But why are yeh tellin' me this. Yeh should go to Dumbledore, he will know what to do. I cant do nothin' to help yeh, I dont even have a wand," Hagrid looked almost pleading, wildly gesturing with his hands while talking.

Harry sighed. "Hagrid, Dumbledore is a great wizard, and an even greater man. If I could, telling him would be the first thing I would do, but I can't! Dumbledore is bound by his bindings to the ministry, he would be forced to move against us instantly."

"His bindings?" Hagrid asked, perplexed.

Harry wanted to slap his hand against his face. Of course, Hagrid knew absolutely nothing about how the ministry worked, who would have told him? Thus, Harry began another explanation, just as he had done with Hermione. Starting at the trace, then the other bindings the ministry used. Then, knowing it would hurt Hagrid but also knowing that he needed to know the truth, he explained Hagrid's immunity to such bindings, and his theory on why Hagrid had actually been expelled.

"They knew? They knew I was innocent an' expelled me 'cause these….these…bindings wouldn't work?!"

Harry had seldom seen Hagrid enraged, but the gentle half giant was practically fuming with anger. Rightly so, Harry thought.

"Yes, I am quite sure that is the real reason. Hagrid, you have huge potential as a wizard. We can get you a wand, and we can give you the education the ministry has denied you. What we ask for in return, is to pledge your life to the abolishment of these horrific laws and to fight Voldemort when he will rise again."

Hagrid, still fuming, didn't take long before answering. "Harry, yeh parents were great people, yeh know? And I think they would be very proud o' yeh. I will take the oath."

Harry shot Hagrid a smile. "Great, then we should head over to Godrics Hollow, where we are currently staying, do the oath, and then we can put you up to speed on our further planning."

As the three were leaving the Dursleys home, one thought shot through Harry's head. He had been right - Hagrid did always act through his heart.


	8. Chapter 08

**Author's Note:**

I present you with chapter 08! From here onwards, I plan to do daily or bi-daily updates. I am delighted over every review!

* * *

Harry and Hermione had found a compartment at the end of the Hogwarts Express, and both were lost deep in thought, which bathed the compartment in a pleasant silence. Harry was slightly unnerved by the fact of them leaving for Hogwarts before everything was fully prepared. Sirius was still recovering and lacking a wand, but at least Remus was at the Potter home to care for him. Hermione had gotten a wand at Ollivander's, with Harry picking up his phoenix feather wand, too. It would just have been too suspicious if they hadn't bought it there, especially with Professor McGonagall taking Hermione shopping. That meant they had to bear with their magic being tracked for now. Luckily, the rest of the trace would not take a hold of them, thanks to their vows. Harry had taken a look at Hagrid's umbrella, which held the parts of his broken wand. It actually was a decently crafted focus. Harry had theorized that Dumbledore might have given it to Hagrid, which the half-giant had confirmed after Harry had asked him. Harry had given Remus the task of checking Kusnezow's hiding places, now that Harry would be unavailable to do so. Maybe, they could get at least Sirius' wand from there, and then one for Hermione too that didn't hold the trace.

Hermione was slightly nervous for her first day at Hogwarts. Last week, Harry had once again tested her Occlumency shields, declaring them passable to fight off surface intrusion. Nonetheless, he had recommended not meeting Dumbledore's, Snape's, and especially Quirrell's eyes. He had also proudly told her that she had mastered most of the first-year spells wandlessly. On the one hand, that made her very proud, on the other hand, she was a bit put out with the lack of challenge her classes would present her with, but Harry had promised that he would continue teaching her, and that they would be starting duelling practice soon.

The silence in the compartment was broken by the door slamming open, revealing a nervous looking redhead.

"Can I sit here? Everything else is full," Ronald Weasley said, his eyes darting from Harry to Hermione.

Harry grimaced at the sight of Ron. The redhead, unlike Hermione, was still very much an eleven-year-old boy. He was hot-headed, but lacked actual Gryffindor courage, which was proven by him deserting Harry numerous times after they had formed a friendship in their first year. He was small minded, quite egoistical, and had a huge problem with feeling unrecognized by others. In short, he wasn't the type of friend Harry needed in his life.

However, Harry didn't want to be rude without reason, so he simply nodded, returning to his thoughts. Ron seemed put out by the response, heaving his trunk into the compartment and sitting down next to Hermione. Then, he notices Harry's scar.

"Bloody Hell, you are Harry Potter!" he practically shouted, and Harry had to visibly reign himself in and bite back an angry retort. Hermione furrowed her brows at Ron's mannerism, but before Harry could respond, Ron started loudly talking again. "Can I see it? The scar? Do you remember it…you know?"

Hermione's look had turned from slightly annoyed to visibly angry, and before Harry could answer, she practically exploded at Ron. "Do you realise you just asked him if he remembered his parents' deaths? Are you really as rude as that question implies or are you just painfully ignorant?"

For a moment, Ron looked as if he actually realised, he had committed a blunder, but then, his head turned an angry shade of red. "I didn't ask you! Who are you anyway?"

Hermione just huffed, staring at Ron for a few seconds as if she wasn't sure if his question warranted an answer. Then, she pulled out a book out of her open suitcase and started reading. Actually, she was readjusting her Occlumency shields, as her sudden anger had disrupted the newly build defences and leaving them like that would not be good for their continues effectiveness. Harry realised her effort, and flashed her a small smile, even though she couldn't see it.

"She's insufferable, isn't she?" Ron asked, and Harry's blood turned cold. That sentence out of the Weasleys mouth triggered a set of memories Harry really didn't want to live through. Pictures flashed before his eyes: Ron saying something quite similar to him in their first year, and Hermione nearly being killed by a troll because of it. That led his thoughts to...no he didn't want to think about that. Harry's relationship with Ron had slowly started deuterating, until it was completely broken in their fourth year, when Ron had accused him of putting his name in the Goblet of Fire for _money and fame_ , a notion so ridiculous Harry had thought Ron was joking when it had first left his mouth.

"Get out," he said. His tone was quiet, but sharper than a razor's edge. Ron just looked confused.

"But Ha-"

"Out. Now." This time, Harry's voice wasn't quiet anymore, his hands slightly trembling. Ron shot him and Hermione an angry glare, before taking his trunk and storming out of the compartment. When the door slammed behind him, Harry cast a quick locking charm, not wanting to be disturbed by anyone while he tried to explain his outburst to Hermione, who was shooting him a questioning look.

"You didn't have to-" she started, but Harry held up his hand, and Hermione fell silent again.

"I know I was a bit overreacting, but…I have bad memories of that phrase and I really don't like anyone calling you names."

Hermione slowly rose out of her seat, sitting down next to him and taking his still trembling hands into hers.

"I know you don't like talking about…your past. But…I would really like to know…how it was, you know?"

Harry unsuccessfully tried to steady his hands. Her touch felt warm on his skin, and when he met her eyes, he could see the same warmth looking back at him.

"I…will tell you. But not now, okay? I.. wasn't the friend that I should have been. You were lonely for more than two years, and I never did anything about it, even though I saw you being in pain. When I finally approached you…we didn't have much time to spent together."

"I died early, didn't I? And you feel responsible?" she asked, and Harry didn't know if he should be amazed at her intuition or angry at himself for telling her. He simply nodded. Hermione just put her hands around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Whatever happened, I don't blame you. You did more for me in the last year than anyone else has ever done, and you most likely had enough on your plate at that time that you didn't have time to think about me."

Harry wanted to retort how he should have seen how much she was suffering. How he, as someone who had felt cruelty his entire childhood, should have been the first to help her, and how he could never forgive himself for just letting her run off after that awful comment when he was the only one she had started to trust. But he said none of that, and simply burrowed his head into her shoulder.

He didn't know how long they just sat there like this, but eventually the train arrived at their destination, which prompted them to hurriedly change into their Hogwarts robes. The boat ride towards Hogwarts was just as magical as his first time, with Hermione's eyes lighting up like stars at her first sight of the majestic castle bathing in the moonlight. Professor McGonagall's speech went by like a breeze and Harry had nearly forgotten about Malfoy's pompous talk about Harry Potter's arrival at Hogwarts, but he simply stayed silent in the back row next to Hermione, and the blonde grudgingly got back into the line when no one answered to his bait.

The coming sorting was something Harry had thought about a great deal. He knew one could influence the heads decision quite a bit, but he hadn't been sure where he wanted to be placed. Gryffindor was a great house in many aspects, but it also brought a lot of attention with it. He needed something subtler, somewhere he could go mostly unnoticed. While that was quite hard as the-boy-who-lived, he hoped that when the initial hype was over, he could sink back into the shadows as an ordinary student. Gryffindor, as well as Slytherin, did not help him in that quest. That was why, he had decided to urge to head to put him into Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff would have also been possible, but he knew Hermione would have a much easier time getting the hat to sort her into Ravenclaw as well.

When Hermione's name was called, she nervously sat down on the chair, and it didn't take long for the hat to yell out "RAVENCLAW". He flashed her a small smile as she headed to the Ravenclaw table. When Professor McGonagall finally called out his name, he ignored the resulting uproar of whispers as best as he could, and walked up to the chair in a slow, confident stride.

"Well, well. This is…unusual," he could hear the hat talking in his mind, and without missing a beat, he put forth his request.

"Ravenclaw, please!"

He was sure he could hear the hat chuckling inside his head. "Mr. Potter, while you are right in your assumption that I take your wishes into account, I am still the one sorting you. You can't just demand to be put into a specific house."

Harry's face blanched at that. He had been sure that if you wanted it hard enough, you would be put where you wished. Racking his mind for something to convince the hat to put him into Ravenclaw, it quickly became apparent that he fell short of convincing arguments. He wasn't a book fanatic like Hermione, and he valued knowledge for its purpose, but not knowledge for knowledge sake.

"Hermione is in Ravenclaw! I need to be in her house!" he desperately tried, working very hard on keeping his face and body relaxed, and to not show his panic to the whole student population.

"There are only two houses you would fit into," the hat answered as Harry's panic spiked, "and while you have tremendous courage, your recent actions are far more calculated and cunning than any Gryffindor could manage…in that case…"

"No…no…no…no," Harry repeated inside his head, knowing exactly towards which decision the hat was heading.

"Don't panic, I am quite sure you will do very well in…SLYTHERIN."

The hall, which had gotten very quiet as Harry's sorting had progressed, went from quiet to deadly still. Harry's eyes met Hermione's, and he could see the shock peeking through her Occlumency shields onto her face. Knowing how very important his conduct would be from now on, he stood up, handed the hat to Professor McGonagall, who looked just as shocked as Hermione, and took slow, confident steps towards the Slytherin table, just as he had done on his way towards the hat. No one dared to clap, and after he was seated it took McGonagall a few seconds to visibly gather herself before she continued with the next sorting. All the while, the entire Slytherin table was looking at him like a muggle seeing a ghost, and Harry was very careful to simply continue following the sorting with a blank face, as if he had all along expected to be placed in the snake's pit.

When the sorting was over, Harry ate in silence, and after Dumbledore had made his familiar "don't-go-and-die-a-painful-death speech", he quietly followed the prefects into the dungeons. When they had entered the common room, the prefects gave a short explanation of the layout of their new domain, after which Harry quickly made his way into the first-year bedroom. Before he even got a chance to open his trunk, a familiar blond walked up to him, regarding him in a contemplative manner, as if he was a riddle the Malfoy heir couldn't quite figure out yet.

"Potter," he snarled, and Harry took a moment to register the rest of the first years having placed themselves behind Draco. He instantly got the feeling that how he reacted right now would make or break the next seven years inside the castle.

"Draco Malfoy, I presume?" he asked, careful to keep his voice even and his face expressionless.

"That would be correct," the blonde simply said, leaving the weight of the conversation on him. Harry had to admit, for all his faults, Draco could be a good politician. He was testing him, and through giving Harry the initiative, he was subtly seeing if Harry would be able to respond properly.

Harry stretched out his hand, while keeping his eyes locked onto Malfoys. "It's good to finally meet you. I expect a lot from the heir of such an old family as the Malfoys."

A quick look of surprise flashed through Malfoys face, before it was carefully hidden behind what Harry suspected to be the start of Occlumency shields. Harry had done three things in one sentence: He had acknowledged the House of Malfoy as an esteemed part of the wizarding community, put the pressure back on Malfoy through that acknowledgment, and offered a civil relationship between two houses that had been on opposite sides of a war not too long ago. That clearly wasn't what Malfoy had been expecting. The blonde took a moment to regard Harry's hand before firmly shaking it.

"I expect the same from you, Potter. After all, the Potters are just as old as the Malfoys, even though…your blood isn't so pure anymore. But it seems like the Potter blood is stronger in your veins than the…other part."

"So it seems," Harry answered, before turning around and starting to unpack his trunk, internally sighting internally at the minefield of a five sentence conversation he had just walked through. At least, Malfoy had the decency to avoid the term 'mudblood'.

-o-o-

Harry hadn't slept more than an hour for the first night back in the castle. He had spent all of it thinking about one thing: How could he get the Slytherins to accept one of them having a close friendship with a muggleborn. Because one thing was very clear, there was no way Harry would let Hermione suffer the same thing again, just because it wouldn't sit well for his image.

On the other hand, status was very important inside Slytherin, and an open friendship with Hermione would quickly destroy any sort of peace he might have acquired through yesterdays interaction.

He was still thinking about it as he headed for breakfast, and he hadn't come up with any solutions as he stood up after finishing his meal and heading straight over to the Ravenclaw table.

"Hermione," he greeted his friend with a small smile, who in turned glanced worryingly at him, then to the Slytherin table, and back to him.

"Harry, you shouldn't…" she started saying, but Harry quickly interrupted her.

"Don't even try to say what you are thinking. This changes nothing," he stated, giving her a bit of a glare. She knew exactly how difficult this situation was. He had taught her enough about the ministry politics and their manifestation inside Hogwarts for her to understand the implications. Even though, Harry was more than ready to ignore all of that.

She nervously bit her bottom lip, before her eyes focused on something behind him. She then looked back at him, whispering something barely even audible. "Trust me."

Before Harry could ask her what she meant by that, a familiar voice snarled behind him: "What do you think you are doing, Potter?"

Harry slowly turned around, but he wasn't able to answer Malfoy's question, because Hermione had risen from her seat, fixing Draco with a blank expression.

"Malfoy. What do you value more: Blood or Magical Power?"

Malfoy looked confused, before sneering at her again: "I didn't ask you anything, Mudblood."

Hermione didn't show any sign of being hurt by that insult, even though Harry knew it would. She just repeated her question slowly, as if talking to a very small child.

Malfoy looked at her with distain, as if an insect had landed on him and he just could not shake it off.

"Power. Of course, magical power comes with purity of blood, but you don't know that, do you?"

Hermione smiled.

"I challenge you to a public honour duel. If I win, you accept that I am worth my magic, and you accept my acquaintance with Harry. If I lose, I will leave Hogwarts."

Harry whipped around, looking at her as if she had lost her mind. Hermione just contently kept smiling.

"And to make this more than clear for you. I won't use my wand."

Draco looked at her for a few long seconds, then he burst out laughing.

"Hahaha…you…are insane! The mudblood has gone crazy!" Malfoy doubled over in laughter. "Did you hear that Goyle? She wants to beat me without a wand. What are you going to do, throw stones at me?"

Hermione's smile receded, and her expression grew cold again.

"Well, do you accept, Malfoy?"

Malfoy had finally stopped laughing. "Yes, Granger, was it? I accept. Hogwarts will be thankful for me removing one of the mudbloods tainting its halls."

In the meantime, Snape had arrived at the scene, glaring angrily at them. Behind him, Flitwick followed looking concerned.

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape asked, looking at Draco for an explanation.

"Granger challenged me to an honour duel. I accepted." Snape just rose an eyebrow, while Flitwick's concerned face turned very serious.

"Mrs. Granger, do you know what an honour duel entails? What are the terms?"

Hermione looked at the small professor, her face just as serious as his.

"Yes, Sir, I know. If I win, Malfoy must publicly accept me worthy of my magic and my friendship with Harry. If I lose, I will leave Hogwarts. I am also forbidden of using my wand."

Flitwick's face had turned white as ash, as he tried to stammer out something inaudible. Snape however, just looked blankly at Draco. "Which time, Mr. Malfoy?" he drawled.

"Tomorrow at eight, so she can enjoy one day of classes before she leaves to where she came from." Draco grinned like Christmas had come early, and retreated back to the Slytherin table.


	9. Chapter 09

**Author's Note:**

My first daily update. I hope the writing quality doesn't decrease from the pace and that I can keep it up. Writing really gets me excited! I hope you have fun reading and like always, I am delighted over every review!

* * *

Hermione didn't go to any of their classes that day. Directly after breakfast she barricaded herself in the first empty room she could find, whipped out a book and started learning the first curse she could find. She didn't know any magic that would help her in a duel, but she knew if she was able to learn one spell that would immobilise Malfoy, she would have a chance through the element of surprise.

It was a huge risk she had taken, but it had been calculated. If she managed to win the duel, Draco would be bound to follow their terms. The question she had asked him before the challenge was one she already knew the answer to. She had only asked to remind the Malfoy heir of his priorities. Yes, most Slytherins valued blood purity, but power was something they valued even more. Winning a public honour duel without the use of a wand had the second payoff of showing her power to the whole school, and the Slytherins would have no other choice than to respect her for it. At least that was what she hoped was going to happen.

If she lost the duel, she was planning on just living with Sirius and Remus and getting her education from them. It wasn't ideal, but at least she would not have to return completely to the muggle world.

The day went by incredibly fast, and Hermione trained well into the night. She knew she could have asked Harry for help, but for some reason, this was something she wanted to face on her own. So, when the next day came, Hermione reinforced her Occlumency shields as best as she could, before striding into the great hall ten minutes before their duel was scheduled.

Everyone's eyes were on her as she entered the great hall. Her gaze flickered over the entire school population to the head table, and what she saw there made her blood boil. Pity shined in the eyes of the professors – awfully condescending pity.

In front of the head table, Draco Malfoy stood waiting, grinning like a loon. As she headed towards him, Flitwick stood up from the head table making his way down to them.

"Today the honour duel between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger will take place. I will act as the witness. Standard duel rules Class C apply. Furthermore, the combatants have agreed upon Mrs. Granger being denied the use of a wand."

They took their positions, Draco holding his wand loosely at his side, Hermione already starting to gather her magic inside her hands. As tradition, they bowed, before waiting for Flitwick to give the signal.

"Start the duel on my signal. 3…2…1…Duel!"

Hermione didn't waste one second, raising her right hand and shouting:

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

Draco hadn't even raised his wand yet, and his grin morphed into shock as the spell left Hermione's hand and slammed into his chest. The expression was frozen onto his face, as his body stiffened, and he collapsed backwards onto the floor.

A deafening silence fell over the hall. It seemed like the whole population of Hogwarts had just gone into a shock state. Seconds went by, in which Hermione slowly let her hand back down, working hard on keeping her face expressionless.

"Winner: Hermione Granger," Flitwick managed to utter quietly, but it was heard through the entire hall.

Hermione turned her head to the Slytherin table, fixing them with an icy glare. "I hope you all now realise I am more than worthy of my magic, despite my blood."

She then turned around and stalked out of the great hall, leaving behind a still complete silence.

-o-o-

Harry had left the hall shortly after Hermione's victory, trying in vain to locate her. He wasn't sure if he should be extremely impressed or furious about her actions, something he would decide after talking to her. He was very angry at her for acting without talking to him first, and he was even angrier at her for leaving taking such a huge risk. It was an awfully Gryffindor-ish action, as Snape would have said. He wasn't able to dwell further on his feeling however, as his first potions class was about to begin in a few minutes. Thus, Harry hurried to the dungeons, seating himself in the front row, and ignoring the excited chatter about Hermione's duel. Quite a few different theories on how Hermione had won were thrown back and forth between the students. He overheard someone claiming she had cheated, others were saying she must have been descended from a squib, as no muggleborn would be able to perform wandless magic at the age of eleven. Draco was uncharacteristically silent, which gave Harry hope that maybe the blonde would take this event as a positive nudge, and not as something he would swear vengeance for. Harry had noted that Hermione had been very careful to be both civil to Draco, and to act exactly as wizarding tradition would demand. Challenging someone to an honour duel for the treatment Draco had showed at the Ravenclaw table was nothing extraordinary, but a quite normal reaction coming from an ancient house. However, it wasn't something expected from a muggleborn, as they were blissfully ignorant of what tradition would dictate. Harry didn't bother to correct anyone's assumptions, and ignored any questions heading his way. Instead, he just waited for Snape to make his dramatic first-year entrance. It didn't take long for the potions master to come sweeping into the room and start giving them his most likely well-rehearsed speech.

Just as in his past life, Snape made a short pause after reading his name off the list, and after he had finished checking their attendance, he immediately started firing questions at Harry.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"That would be the draught of living death, sir," Harry answered evenly.

Snape rose an eyebrow, before continuing with the next question.

"Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"

"That would be inside the stomach of a goat, sir," Harry made sure to laze his voice with as much respect as he could. The questions Snape was asking were all inside the first chapter of his potions textbook. He was testing Harry, and the last time Harry had failed that first critical assessment. This time, however, he wouldn't.

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They are the same plant, sir."

Snape regarded Harry for another moment, before he gave him a short nod. "Correct, Mr. Potter. It seems like you did bother to open a textbook before attending."

Harry just nodded back, hoping that this time, his relationship with Snape might actually be somewhat civil.

-o-o-

During lunch, for once Harry was not the centre of stares and whispers. This time, Hermione had the pleasure of the entire student population taking turns staring at her, pointing fingers, and hushed whispers. However, from the outside it looked like that didn't face her, and she contently kept eating her potatoes, as if oblivious to the people around her.

"Potter," Draco's soft voice reached his ear, and only then did he realise that the blonde was sitting directly next to him, "Did you know Granger was this magically gifted?"

"I don't surround myself with people not worth my time. Someone in your position should know how important good…friendships are," Harry whispered back.

Draco didn't answer, and Harry hoped he hadn't offended the boy. After finishing his meal, Harry walked past the Ravenclaw table, stopping next to Hermione, leaning over and quietly whispered into her ear.

"After classes, you know where."

Harry had told her about the come-and-go room in the seventh floor of the castle, and he was quite sure she would figure out he meant that room as their meeting spot. Without waiting for an answer, he headed towards his next class, not really feeling up to talking with her normally before they hadn't discussed the events of yesterday and this morning.

-o-o-

Harry didn't wait long in the come-and-go room, before the door swung open and Hermione entered. She hadn't even taken two steps towards him, before her mask, and with it her Occlumency shields, fell. Tears started pouring out of her eyes, as the held back emotions of the last forty-eight hours flooded her mind.

Harry didn't think twice before rushing from the couch where he had been seated and swept her into his arms.

"I'm s-o sorry, Ha-arry," she sobbed, "Yo-ou must be so angry. You trusted me, and I messed up on the fi-irst day, an-"

Harry gently stroked her hair, as she buried her head into his chest. He let her cry, not knowing what to say, and so he just stood there until her sobbing slowly receded, and then finally stopped. He gently let her towards the couch, sitting down next to her and looking at her red eyes and tear-streaked face.

"Hermione, please explain your reasoning for what you did," he said slowly, patiently waiting as she gathered herself.

"I knew if I wanted the Slytherins to accept our friendship, I had to impress them. I also had to do it from the very start, or it would have been seen as weakness, or as something someone else told me. I had read about honour duels in the book you gave me, and knew it was the appropriate reaction for Malfoy's insults. So…I just went with that."

"You know, while the Professors won't ask you directly, as that's a serious breach of conduct, they will wonder how you got both the knowledge and the skill for what you did?" Harry asked,

Hermione slowly nodded. "I know, but as they won't be able to ask, I hoped that they will just think I've read about honour duels in a book I bought in Diagon Alley."

Harry pondered that for a moment. It was quite likely they would come to that conclusion. It was the explanation making the most sense, as Harry himself should have nearly no knowledge about those things, and he hadn't given the Professors any indication otherwise.

"I…understand your reasoning. Maybe this is is actually for our benefit, but Hermione, please, next time, when something like this crosses your mind, at least try to talk to me about it beforehand. There was so much that could have gone wrong…" Harry said, looking at hear with pleading eyes.

"I know! I was just so stressed, and it seems like a good idea, a-"

"Its okay," Harry just said, taking her into his arms once more, "I'm just happy it all went well, at least for now."

"You're not angry?" she whispered into his shoulder.

"I was, but not anymore. Hell, I'm supposed to be the one doing rash and not well thought out actions, not you, big brain," he laughed, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from laughing with him.

-o-o-

The next day, the whispers and stares didn't decrease even one bit, and Hermione worked hard on keeping her emotions tightly locked behind her Occlumency shields. She ignored the questions from her housemates, and performed every task given to her in class on her first try, and after that quietly read books on more advanced material. They had decided to play on her genius as much as possible, now that it was out in the open anyway.

In defence against the dark arts, Hermione put extra attention on her Occlumency shields, and always kept her gaze above Quirrell's shoulder, being very careful to never cross his eyes. Having Voldemort's servant try to invade her already stressed Occlumency barriers wasn't something she was keen on living through right now.

After classes, she and Harry had decided to pay Hagrid a visit. Maybe he would be able to tell them a bit on what the Professors were thinking in regards of Hermione. They knocked on the hut's door, and after a loud "Back, Fang!", Hagrid opened the door and ushered them in.

"Harry! Good to see yeh. And Hermione! Harry has told me a lot about yeh, but yeh made yerself quite the name already, did yeh? Come in, come in, I will jus' make yeh a cup o' tea!"

Harry and Hermione sat down, thanking Hagrid as he gave them both a cup.

"Hagrid, we were wondering how the Professors have taken the duel? I hope they don't suspect any outside interference?" Harry asked, taking a sip from the tea, before quickly putting it back down as it was still far too hot.

"They were bloody surprised, o' course. Wandless magic at tha' age, an' then also a second-year spell. Minerva was really worried about yeh, yeh know? She was tryin' to get Dumbledore to call off the duel, but he said there was nothin' he could do about it," Hagrid answered, looking at Hermione at the last bit of his statement, "They all say yeh're a genius. Harry has said tha' to me before, but seein' it with my own eyes…yeh really are a brilliant witch, Hermione."

Hermione blushed under Hagrid's praise and Harry was happy to see her get the recognition she deserved – something that had been denied her in his past life.

"That's good, Hagrid. I thought maybe next week I could start teaching you, if you want. We can start with a recap of the first three years, as quite a long time has passed since you last properly used your wand." Harry suggestion, smiling at Hagrid's beaming expression.

"O' course, Harry! I was really lookin' forward to tha'. I'm jus' sad I can't tell Dumbledore, I think he would be really proud tha' yeh would do tha' fer me," Hagrid said with a solemn expression.

"I know Hagrid," Harry answered, "But there will come a time where you can surprise him with everything you learned, and I am sure he will be more than glad to see you get the education that you should have gotten all along."

Hagrid looked thoughtful for a moment, as if picturing that day. "Yeh know Harry, I will do everythin' I can to make tha' day happen."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:**

Here is another chapter! It's a bit on the short side, but the break felt like a good timing. Like always, I jump in circles over every review and they motivate me A LOT to spent more time writing.

* * *

The days inside the castle started to fall into a pleasant rhythm. Harry spent his time in classes, teaching Hermione and Hagrid, and corresponding with Remus and Sirius. Week after week, Harry could basically feel Sirius's mental state improving through his writing. While his first letters had been all over the place, now they were much more coherent and thought out.

Draco had been subdued after his lost duel, not even bothering to fling his usual insults towards Ron. Nearly all of Slytherin had accepted Harry's friendship with Hermione. Harry had the feeling that they were quietly accessing the situation, not sure on how to react to an obviously incredibly magically powerful muggleborn. Harry had slowly garnered a similar reputation, as he was breezing through his classes just like Hermione.

Ron had not taken well to being rebuffed inside the Hogwarts Express, shooting him angry glares whenever he saw Harry. Harry had also heard that Ron was trying to spin a story of him being obviously a dark wizard, but only few were listening to him. Harry's friendship with a muggleborn was a big factor in most of Gryffindor rejecting that notion.

As most of Harry's classes were with the Gryffindors, he couldn't help but notice Neville having huge problems with his classes. He knew the issue was mostly Neville's focus, and thus he was unsure on how to help the boy. Neville also seemed extremely isolated, not talking much with anyone, and almost always sitting alone at meals.

Harry had spoken with Hermione about his observations, and they quickly decided they needed to help Neville in some fashion, even if it was only through the support of a friendship for now. One evening after dinner, when Neville was heading towards the Gryffindor tower, Harry quickly followed him out of the great hall.

"Hey Neville, wait a second!" Harry called out after him, and Neville instantly jumped at the unexpected voice behind him.

"Harry…" Neville quietly acknowledged him, nervously swaying from one foot to the other.

"Hermione and I were going to visit Hagrid this evening. I was wondering if you wanted to join us." Harry asked, smiling at the still frightened looking boy.

"Uh…I…" Neville seemed to ring with his words, and Harry could practically feel the question Neville didn't trust himself to voice out loud - 'Why would you want me to join?'

"You know, Hagrid was telling me a lot about my parents; yours and mine were good friends, and Hagrid surely knows a few stories about yours as well. I thought, maybe, we could get to know each other a bit to...honour their friendship."

Neville shyly looked to the side at the mention of his parents, clearly embarrassed. Harry didn't know if it was because of their current state, or the ever-looming shadow of wanting to be like them that Neville had always fought with. Nevertheless, Neville slowly nodded.

"I..I think I would like that," Neville answered.

"Awesome! We will meet you in an hour at Hagrid's hut then!" Harry exclaimed, before giving Neville another smile and then heading towards the dungeons.

The time with Hagrid went well, with Neville listening intently at Hagrid's stories of his parent. Even though Frank and Alice had been more of the quiet sort, there were some memorable moments that Hagrid could tell him. Neville later told Harry and Hermione on the way back that it had been nice to listen to someone speak about his parent without the underlying tone of expectation for him to be the same. Harry had simply said that while his parents sure had been great people, Neville was his own man and could be great in his own unique way, without needing to be like anyone wanted him to. Neville had looked contemplative for a moment, before thanking Harry and heading off to the Gryffindor tower.

From that moment on, Harry and Hermione met with Neville for regular study sessions, and sometimes for tea with Hagrid. While Neville's grates were still suboptimal, they slowly improved. Harry was sure that Neville would do a lot better with a proper wand, but withheld that piece of information for now, as it would not help Neville without a solution at hand.

-o-o-

Hermione was bored. Classes were just incredibly dull, with here having mastered everything they were being taught months ago. Most of the time, she simply completed the task, then taking out a book to keep herself busy. Right now, she was sitting in Defence Against The Dark Arts, doing just the same. Her peaceful reading was interrupted however, when Professor Quirrell suddenly appeared next to her.

"Mr—s. Gra-aa-anger, would y-o-o-u plea-se sta-ay for a mo-oment after cla-ass?"

It took everything out of Hermione not to jump from her seat. She wrecked her brain for a feasible excuse to deny the request, not liking one bit to be alone in a room with what was practically Lord Voldemort. She came up short, however, so she simply nodded.

"Of course, Professor."

Every second of class after that felt like hours, and she consciously had to fight the urge to just run away and find Harry. When everyone was packing their things and left the room, she had a very hard time to keep her hands from trembling.

"Mrs. Gra-anger, it seems like the cla-asses are bo-oring you," Quirrell said, fidgeting nervously at his robes. Even though Hermione knew it was an act, it was a very good one. If she didn't know just what was lurking behind Quirrell's turban, she might have been put into a false sense of security.

"They do, Professor," she simply answered, wondering where Quirrell was heading with this talk.

"Ma-aybe you wou-uld be inte-e-rested in a bi-it more cha-a-llenging material?"

Did Lord Voldemort just offer her private lessons? The thought was so incredibly surreal, she didn't know how to react. Lord Voldemort, the champion for pureblood propaganda was offering lessons to a muggleborn?

"Thank You, Professor, but I am quite content with how things are progressing. I think classes will become more challenging with time," she answered, hoping that he wouldn't force the issue.

"O-of cou-urse. Ru-un alo-ong then. My-y door i-is alwa-ays open, if yo-ou ne-ed any a-assiste-e-nce."

"Thank you, Professor."

Hermione didn't remember a time she was gladder to be out of classroom, and she was sincerely hoping that Quirrell had not picked onto her distress. As soon as the door had closed behind her, she hurried towards the great hall, where she hoped Harry should be found. She quickly made her way to the Slytherin table, whispering to him that she had something urgent to be discussed. Without raising a fuss, Harry instantly stood up and let her out of the hall towards the room of requirements.

"Please tell me you're joking," he said after she had told her about her lesson today. Harry was running his hand through his hair, a thing he always did when he was nervous or tense.

"Trust me, I would like nothing more than answer yes to that question. Sadly, I am not." Harry winced at her angry tone, and she immediately softened her voice. "Why would he make that offer?"

"I have no idea," Harry answered, "Maybe he is just trying to recruit you, that would be the best scenario."

"Or he decided to kill me before I can become a problem."

Harry's distressed face was indication enough just how much he thought that this could be a possible explanation.

"I would suggest you befriend someone in Ravenclaw, so that you don't need to walk alone through the castle," Harry said after a moment of consideration. At Hermione's pained expression, he rose an eyebrow. "They can't all be that bad, can they?"

"They are jealous," Hermione simply said, "Nearly all of them. Ravenclaw prides itself in their knowledge, but they can't keep up with me. They don't like that."

"Then I will simply accompany you to your classes," he offered.

"Harry, we don't have any classes together. Whoever had the idea of pairing Slytherin and Gryffindor in every class is simply nuts, but that's not something we can change. And you can't be late to every class. I mean how likely is it that Quirrell will just jump me in the hallway?"

Harry sighed. "Splitting his soul has made Voldemort unstable and quite…mad. It's hard to foresee what he might and might not do."

"Can't we expose him to Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, running out of ideas.

"How? Hey Professor Dumbledore, I know you didn't notice but Voldemort might be hanging out at the back of Quirrell's head, completely masking his magical presence. It's just a thought we had."

"You prat!" Hermione playfully gave Harry a smack on the head. "No need to go all sarcastic on me."

"I'm sorry. I tend to do that when I'm panicking." Harry apologized half-heartedly.

"So, we just wait and hope nothing happens?" Hermione asked.

"I will come up with something. I don't think he would act this fast; Voldemort likes his well thought out plans, and doing something to you would jeopardize his attempts on stealing the stone. Just don't get alone in a room with him again. Make a miserable excuse if you must, but just get out of there if he should approach you once more."

Hermione sighted and nodded, being very glad at feeling Harry's arms around her a second later. She let her body relax into him, and shortly after she heard Harry whisper into her ear: "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

-o-o-

When Harry entered the Slytherin common room, Draco was there waiting for him.

"Got a moment, Potter?" the blonde asked, to which Harry nodded, seating himself next to the blond in one the armchairs. Draco's usual lackeys were nowhere to be seen, which surprised Harry, as Crabby and Goyle seldom left Draco's side.

"Granger…she really is a muggleborn, right?" At Draco's question something clicked inside Harry's mind. Draco had been taught from birth about the superiority of purebloods. The blatant magical talent Hermione displayed must have really gotten under the Malfoy heirs skin, which explained his unusual quietness for the past few weeks.

"Yes, at least we did not find any evidence of another witch or wizard in her family history," Harry answered, looking at Draco and trying to read his expression. However, Draco clearly had been trained in Occlumency, and his thoughts were not at all broadcasted on his face.

Trying to seize the opportunity of doubt inside Draco's mind, Harry quietly continued speaking: "Draco I know roughly what you have been taught, and I am not asking for you to throw all of that out of the window. Hermione, however, is a brilliant example of an incredibly powerful witch, which just happens to be the first inside her family. When Hermione asked you, you clearly stated that you value strength over blood, and I think that is something that might serve you well. Voldemort is another example of an incredibly powerful wizard, as is Dumbledore. There is a reason both of them attracted such a big following. But…Draco, how much has your father taught you about ministry bindings?"

Draco's gaze nervously flickered around them, searching for listeners, but the common room was completely empty. Still, Draco's voice was only a hushed whisper: "Potter! You can't go talking about those! It can get you into big trouble _real_ fast. How in Salazar's name do you know about them at all?!"

"That answer tells me enough. Voldemort has done horrendous magic to escape his bindings, which rendered him far from sane. In a world where those things would not exist, he would have maybe become a powerful politician for traditional values. He was charismatic, intelligent and immensely powerful, but as soon as he left Hogwarts, the ministry forced him into bindings so mighty, he would have been nothing but a pawn for whichever coward was currently running things at the ministry."

"Why are you telling me this?" Draco hissed, his Occlumency faltering for a moment, confusion and fear etched onto his face.

"Can you give me an oath of silence?" Harry asked instead of answering, and Draco inhaled a sharp breath.

"Potter! Do you know what you are asking?" Draco said, alarm in his voice.

"I'm asking for a very specific oath to not relay what I am about to tell you to anyone else without my permission. Nothing else." Harry answered, calm and collected.

"Is this so important? And if it is why would you tell me?"

"Yes, it is. And I ask you because I see potential that might be wasted kissing the ropes of an insane dark lord." Harry offered quietly, seriousness and honesty evident inside his voice.

Draco looked angry for a moment, before visibly calming himself.

"I will think about it and maybe approach you again," he then offered, "until then, this conversation _never_ happened."

Harry nodded. "Of course it didn't."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:**

Chapter 11! Sorry for the long wait. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always I am more than delighted over ever favourite, review, and follow.

* * *

Halloween was drawing near, and with it, Voldemort's first attempt at the stone. This time, however, there would be no near-death experience for Hermione. Harry would make sure of that. He had discussed the event with Hermione, and their plan was simple: Head to their common rooms and keep their heads down.

When on said day, Quirrell burst into the great hall and mumbled about a troll, they did exactly that. The next day, Dumbledore made an announcement that the incident had been dealt with, and just like last time, Snape had gotten himself a limp from checking on Fluffy.

Harry was still anxious about Quirrell's interest in Hermione, but for now he didn't make any more attempts to talk with her. Thus, Harry concluded that the danger was minimal at the moment. Voldemort would not endanger his plans for a new body for a first-year student, no matter how talented or powerful she appeared to be.

Time was moving forward with nothing of note happening for a few months. Draco hadn't approached Harry yet, but was often seen quietly contemplating in the common room. Neville was still joining them for studying sessions and tea with Hagrid, and his grades were slowly improving. It was hard for Harry to keep so many secrets from the boy, but he knew he couldn't tell him anything important, no matter how much he was sure that Neville could be a loyal ally.

Hagrid's lessons were also moving forward, and with every new spell he learned, the half-giant seemed to gain a bit of self-confidence. It was nice seeing Hagrid reconnect with his magic, and Harry could feel that something deeper inside his friend was changing. Being disconnected from your magic tended to have a bad effect on one's psyche, and Harry could practically see Hagrid's self-worth slowly rise along with his magic.

Christmas break came around, and Harry was giddy at seeing how Remus and Sirius were doing. Even though they kept in contact via letters, seeing them in person would be something much more rewarding. Hermione would be returning home to her parents but would join them for a meeting with the members of their order a few days before Christmas.

The train ride was spent in silence, Hermione engrossed in a spell book, while Harry thought about his further plans. Neville joined them in their compartment, seemingly content with their silence. Harry thought that the boy was just glad to sit with people he could call friends, which on the one hand angered him for Neville being in such a state of mind, but at the same time made him glad that they could slowly do something about it.

When they arrived, Harry quickly said his goodbyes, before heading off towards the exit. He didn't want to run into the Grangers, as they hadn't seen him as an eleven-year-old yet, and he hadn't yet figured out how to tell them the more sensitive parts of information, while at the same time ensuring the safety of it.

The travel towards Godrics Hollow took him quite some time, as he needed to use muggle means to do so. Therefore, it was already dark when he opened the front gate of his home. As soon as he entered the front door, he heard his godfather excitedly shout his name from upstairs. A moment later, the same godfather swept him into a hug, a smiling Remus standing behind him.

"How is my favourite time-traveller doing today?" Sirius grinned, and Harry couldn't help but laugh at the joy his godfather radiated.

"Quite well. Thank you, Sirius. How have you two been holding up?" Harry answered, letting go of Sirius and then engulfing Remus into a hug, too.

"Just fine," Sirius answered, "We got the house finished. Well, Remus did, as I sadly don't have a wand yet."

Harry's eyebrows rose at that. "Finished? All alone? I was expecting to spend some work over the holidays on it."

Remus shrugged, a small smile on his lips. "Well I had enough free time. We can show you later, and of course you can make adjustments if something doesn't suit you."

"As much as I would like to see your handywork right now, I think tomorrow might be better suited. How about we get us a glass of Firewhiskey, and we exchange some notes about the last few months?"

Sirius let out a booming laugh. "You think your eleven-year-old body can take Firewhiskey?"

"A glass, Sirius, not a whole bottle."

"In fourth year, James and I sneaked a bottle from Hogsmeade. The next morning was something to behold. In my official capacity as your godfather, I will very much enjoy seeing you suffer through tomorrow."

Harry playfully hit Sirius into his side, who in turn ruffled through his hair. The two of them then chased each other into the living room, a sceptical, but happy looking Remus behind them.

-o-o-

Their first official order meeting was scheduled to start a few days before Christmas. Hagrid would be coming over from Hogwarts, and Harry would get Hermione from her parents' home. There was another reason he was visiting the Granger's, besides getting Hermione, and that was something he at the same time dreaded and looked forward to. Harry had talked with Sirius about his problem with withholding information from Hermione's parents, and Sirius had been able to provide him with a solution. The Blacks had always been a family harbouring many secrets, and while every Black started learning Occlumency years before Hogwarts - much like many other pureblood heirs – the Blacks had not been content with just one layer of protection. Thus, they developed a mixture of an oath and a spell that would protect information even from a skilled Legilimens. Basically, it shut part of your memories away from the rest, and while those memories were still accessible, the mind had to take a detour through the memory of the oath and spell taking place. It didn't make the information unreachable for a Legilimens, but without knowing what to look for, the backdoor would be easily overlooked. It made thinking about the information quite a tad more difficult, which was why Harry had decided to not use them for the main members of their order. Finding yourself in a situation where you had to use that information fast and needing to go through that backdoor might take away valuable second that you did not have. Sirius and himself were proficient enough in Legilimency to keep someone out, and Remus, Hermione, and Hagrid were learning fast enough to brush off surface scans by now. And if Voldemort decided to for some reason go for a full-blown brute force attack, not even the best Occlumency shields would do them any good. The only wizard Harry knew of that could withhold information from the Dark Lord through such an attack was Snape, and Harry didn't have a clue how he was doing it.

Harry ringed the doorbell of the Granger household, the illusion of his older self in place, all the while keeping himself from nervously fidgeting at his ropes. A moment later, the door opened, and Emma Granger shot him a welcoming smile.

"Mr. Potter, please come in. Hermione is waiting in the living room."

Harry thanked her, before entering through the doorway. "I was actually hoping to speak to all three of you, before heading off."

Emma nodded, before calling out for her husband. Harry greeted Hermione's father with a firm handshake, then followed both of them into the living room.

Hermione greeted him with a warm smile, and when all of them were seated, Harry began talking.

"As you both know, there are things I did not tell you about Hermione's situation. The reason for that was that some wizards, as you know, have the ability to read minds, and I had not yet found a way for you to protect your minds from such an attack." The Grangers nodded, and Harry took that as a signal to continue explaining. "Luckily, through a member of our organisation, we have found a way to do so. The procedure would be a combination of an oath and a spell, and while not offering a hundred percent failproof protection, it minimises the risk to an acceptable degree. I do not like keeping secrets from you and would gladly stop doing that starting from today."

Hermione's father's face held an expression stuck between relief and fear for a moment, before morphing into determination. "We would very much welcome that." Emma Granger nodded her approval, before shooting a look at Hermione, who just nervously smiled in return.

"The whole thing is pretty straightforward. You need to look into my eyes, so that I can reach out with my magic towards your mind. I will then anchor the spell to the memory currently being created by your brain, You need to recite some specific words, basically saying that you will not relay any information I tell you without my permission and keep it guarded through this oath. My magic, together with your mind, will do the rest by itself, anchoring said information behind the memory of the oath. If you want to recollect that information, you then need to briefly remember this moment. It's slightly bothersome, but with a bit of practice, you won't even notice having to do it."

Again, the Grangers nodded. It took no more than fifteen minutes for him to bind the memories of them both, and when he was finished, the Grangers both looked slightly confused.

"It can be a bit disorienting having information locked like that, but it will fade in time." With a wave of Harry's wand, the illusion around him faded, and in front of the Granger's now sat Harry's usual eleven-year-old self. Before the Granger's even had the time to react, Harry already started speaking. "Let me start at the beginning. Before I was even born, a prophecy was made…"

So, Harry started explaining. He told them about his past life, about Voldemort, the Horcruxes, the forming of their order, basically everything that he had left out of their conversations they held before Harry had entered Hogwarts. Not once did the Grangers try to interrupt him. When he was finished, Mr. Granger waited a few seconds before asking something Harry had hoped he could avoid.

"You said no more secrets, however you conveniently left out any information regarding Hermione in your past life."

It felt like a thick, heavy lump had miraculously appeared inside his throat. That was something he did not like to think about, and definitely didn't want to talk about.

"You promised to tell me," Hermione's quiet voice cut through the tense silence. Harry sighed.

"Hermione arrived at Hogwarts with zero knowledge about the wizarding world, its laws and custom, and the people residing within it. As you undoubtfully know, she is an extremely driven person, and together with her insane magical talent, she was ahead in all her classes from day one. That did not sit well with the purebloods at Hogwarts. They isolated her, threatening anyone who even dared thinking about approaching her. She was the target of daily insults, belittlement, and incredibly cruel pranks. To my shame, I must admit that I did nothing about it, in fear of retribution from the rest of the students. It continued like that for three years, until in fourth year, I found myself in a quite similar situation like Hermione. There was a tournament, an incredibly dangerous one, and I was picked against my will as a participant. The school however, as well as the only friend I thought I had, had the impression that I had entered it willingly, and stole the spotlight from another student. Hermione…she didn't think twice when she saw that I needed help to survive the tasks of the tournament, and she is the only reason I got out of it alive. And then…they used some obscure new law to send her to Azkaban for helping me. She died after a few years in that hell. "

Silence filled the room, and when nobody said anything Harry again felt the urge to speak.

"I failed her. She was courageous beyond belief, not once thinking about what it might mean for her when she helped me that year. The time I spent with her was the best I ever had. She was the first real friend I ever had. And I swear on my magic, that I will do anything, absolutely anything to keep her safe and enable her to live the kind of life that she should have had all along."

The words just spurted out of Harry's mouth and he didn't feel his magic react until it had already settled around him. He had just given an oath, even though he had not used the proper wording for one. His magic had just instinctively reacted to his words and feelings. But before he could ponder about it, a blur crashed into him, and his vision was blocked by brown hair.

"I- don't blame yo-u," Hermione cried into his shoulder, "Sto-p beating y-ourse-lf up." After a moment she added, this time with a much steadier voice: "You already did more for me that I could ever imagine."

"Mr. Potter," Harry heard Mr. Granger's tightly controlled voice, and an embarrassed Hermione let go of him, but not leaving his side, "I think…that we have to think over the information you provided to us. We will talk at a later time. Please have Hermione home at eight."

Harry nodded solemnly. He couldn't blame Mr. Granger for his reaction, actually, it was a lot more civil than Harry had expected.

"Of course, Thank you for your time."

-o-o-

The drive towards Godrics Hollow was subdued, neither Harry nor Hermione feeling much like talking. As they entered the room designated for their meeting, Sirius, Remus and Hagrid were already seated.

After a warm greeting, Harry began their first official meeting, asking if any of them had something to discuss.

Remus was the first one to respond. "Last week, when I did the check-up for the wand-seller, I found the laptop you mentioned. I arranged a meeting for the second of February."

"That's wonderful news. We can get Sirius a wand then, and another one without the trace for Hermione…How is your wand working Remus?"

Harry grimaced at the though of having gone through all that trouble with Remus, just to buy him a wand a few months later.

"Better, it's working better."

"That's good," Harry answered. "Remus, I suggest that you meet with Kusznecow. You will need some blood from Sirius and Hermione, for him to find a good match."

Remus agreed, and when no one else seemed to have something to bring forwards, Harry raised an issue himself. "I was thinking about recruitment. While this is our inner circle, and at the moment I don't have anyone trustworthy and with the right circumstances to join, like Dumbledore and Voldemort, we will need more people than us five to help accomplish our goals. We need some kind of process to feel out possible members, and slowly get them more involved."

"Dumbledore used oaths on our magic for the regular order members," Sirius provided, "But the only reason we got people to agree on that was Dumbledore's reputation. Sadly, we are quite lacking in that regard. Maybe we can start people off with the oath I showed you?"

"It's too much of a disability in quick decision making." Hermione answered, taking Harry's words right out of his mouth, "I will do some research and find something suitable."

Hermione had expected her suggestion to be shut down by the "adults" but was surprised to find accepting nods around the table. A warm feeling spread through her chest. While by now she had accustomed herself to Harry treating her like an actual capable adult, she hadn't expected the rest of their group doing the same.

"Perfect," Harry clapped his hands together, "When all of you are equipped with wands, we can start the Horcrux hunt. Hermione and I will scan Hogwarts for possible members. If any of you have someone in mind, you can tell us the next time we meet. Before we can do any big attacks on Voldemort or the Ministry, we need to strengthen ourselves and weaken their hold on wizarding Britain first."

"How exactly do you plan to do that?" Remus asked.

"We have to fill important ministry positions with our members. How we are doing that depends a lot on the circumstances. I am always an advocate for keeping things peaceful, that said, we won't be able start a revolution without a few dead bodies."

Harry saw Hagrid nervously squirm in his seat, Remus and Sirius looked grim, while Hermione had a mix of determination and worry etched onto her face.

"But Harry, don't yeh think there is another way?" Hagrid nervously asked.

"Hagrid, I am not talking about killing a ministry employee doing his job. Although it would be easier doing it that way, I won't. I am talking about death eaters in ministry positions, murderers, rapists, people that had it coming. I am always for rehabilitation if possible, but we just don't have the means to do it that way. We are saving a lot of lives with what we are doing. A lot more than we will take. "

Hagrid still didn't look convinced, but also didn't have anything to respond, so Harry moved on.

"First comes getting us ready ourselves. Then we can worry about how we are going to infiltrate the ministry."

-o-o-

When Harry dropped Hermione off at her parent's house, Dan Granger was already standing at the doorway. "Mr. Potter, a word please?"

"Of course, Mr. Granger," Harry answered, following the stoic father into the living room. When Hermione followed, Mr. Granger gently held her back. "We would like to talk with Mr. Potter alone."

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but after a moment of hesitation she nodded and went up the stairs to her room. Harry followed Mr. Granger into the living room, where Mrs. Granger was already waiting.

"So, Mr. Potter," Hermione's father started talking slowly and carefully, "First, we would like to say that we appreciate your honesty with us. We know that if you wanted to, you could lie to us and we would be none the wiser."

"I would ne-"

Mr. Granger signalled Harry with his hand to stop, and Harry shut his lips closed, letting him continue. "We do not like the situation Hermione is in. We do not like that she is this heavily involved into what will eventually turn into a civil war. We do not like her being potentially made a target because of her association with you." Mr. Granger made a small pause, taking a deep breath. Harry's face had turned into a grimace. He could understand the position Hermione's parents found themselves in, and he could more than understand their worries.

"However, with what we learned about the wizarding world, that civil war is going to happen with or without you. And as we know Hermione, she would not run from what she feels is right. We also heavily appreciate your actions in trying to shield Hermione from harm. With that said, we have two requests for you. First, we would like your promise to keep Hermione out of the actual fighting. The battlefield is no place for an twelve-year-old girl. Secondly, we would like you to keep us updated on what you are doing and what is happening - no secrets."

Harry took a deep breath, calming his nerves. "I will keep you updated, and I will not hold secrets. I won't take Hermione into fights before she is ready to face them. I will not force her into anything. But…I can't promise to keep her out of the fighting completely. She is immensely powerful, so much that her very presence could turn a battle in our favour a few years from now."

Mr. Granger's face had turned angry and his voice rose slightly above the normal volume. "So you expect us to accept you putting our little girl into a war at twelve? Are you out of your mind?!

"I don't expect you to do anything. And she won't be joining any fights at twelve, most likely not at the age of thirteen or fourteen either. But Mr. Granger, I am sad to say that this is not your choice."

Mr. Grangers face had turned from angry to furious. His hands were shaking, and Mrs. Granger had begun to silently sob next to him. Harry's face was passive and cold, his Occlumency masking the pain and anguish saying those words to Hermione's father brought him.

"Get out of my house."

Harry nodded, and without another word left the Granger household, holding up the tears threatening to bubble up until he was back at Godrics Hollow, taking Sirius's firewhiskey and drinking until he collapsed onto the couch into a relieving unconsciousness.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:**

So here is chapter 12. I hope you somewhat enjoy it. :) I am still delighted over every review.

* * *

Luna Lovegood woke up screaming.

Trying to normalise her breathing, she wasted no time jumping out of her bed and heading towards her father's bedroom. Swinging the door open, she was met with a confused Xenophilius Lovegood, who was looking at her with a concerned gaze.

"Daddy, I need one of our owl's," she exclaimed, still out of breath, the contents of her dream at the forefront of her mind.

"Another vision, dear?" her father asked, to which she nodded. "Tracey is the fastest. The Quibbler won't be sent for another hour or so, so feel free to take it."

Luna didn't waste any time and made her way towards the owlery, grabbing parchment, feather and ink on her way up the stairs. Visions were nothing uncommon for her, she had had them since her mother had used that ritual on her dying in the process. But since about a year and a half ago, these visions had changed from random insights about people's future to the future of a few select individuals.

Harry Potter was in most of them, a girl named Hermione, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and often times, herself. The visions weren't set in stone, they changed frequently and most of them were far into the future, but this one – this one left her with a feeling of unavoidable urgency.

Quickly, she wrote the letter and attached it to the owl her father had recommended. She watched it fly off and hoped with all her heart that she hadn't been too late.

-o-o-

Harry was awoken by someone calling his name. Slowly opening his eyes, he could see the concerned faces of Remus and Sirius hovering over him.

"Harry…" Remus said at a loss of words. Quickly taking in his surroundings, Harry noticed that he was lying on the ground next to the sofa, the empty bottle of Firewhiskey next to him. He averted his gaze, not daring to look either of them into the eyes. It had been a long time since he had fallen into a pit so dark that he had drunken himself into unconsciousness. He had hoped that he was over that particular bad habit.

The next thing he could feel was his godfathers arm wrapping around him. Harry let him, and a moment later he was clinging to his godfather, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry…" he mumbled, while Sirius gently stroked his hair.

"Don't be," Sirius said into his ear, "It's okay."

Before Harry could retort he was interrupted by an owl angrily tapping his beak at the window next to them. Remus walked over there to let it in, taking the letter from the owl and putting it on the table. "This can wait," he said, while Sirius helped Harry sit on the couch. The owl, however, didn't seem to agree, angrily flying at Remus and screeching into his ear.

"Remus give me the letter, please," Harry said tiredly. His head was aching, and his body felt like he had been run over by a horde of Hippogryphs, but he had learned to not ignore letters when owls acted that way. Most of the time, it meant that whoever wrote them felt like the letter was urgent.

Remus sighed, handing Harry the letter who gave it a few waves with his hands to check for hidden spells. When none came up, he opened it and began to read.

 _Hello Harry Potter,_

 _Hermione might be in grave danger. Someone is coming for her._

 _Luna Lovegood_

Harry didn't waste a breath springing up from the couch and throwing the letter behind him. He didn't start thinking on how Luna knew him, and on how she might have come to that conclusion. He didn't think about what would happen if it might be a trap. The only thought in his mind was 'I need to save Hermione'.

As he sprung to his feet, his vision blurred for a moment and he needed Sirius to steady him. "Remus!" he exclaimed "You need to apparate us to the Grangers!"

"Wha-" Remus started to ask, but Harry interrupted him harshly.

"We need to move - now!"

-o-o-

Quirrell was lazily gazing at the house in front of him. It had been surprisingly easily getting the mudblood's address from the school record. His master had been surprised when he had told him about the girl's talent and power, at first believing he was exaggerating. His lord then took some of his gathered power to wake from his slumber and observe her in class, and soon after that he instructed Quirrell to get close to her. The Dark Lord had been furious with him after his failure, punishing him for hours, and in his fury exhausted himself. Now he had been asleep for weeks, but Quirrell would not fail the Dark Lord again. He would take matters into his own hands, and when his master would wake up, he would be rewarded for his success.

He walked towards the house, opening the door with a swift motion of his wand. Walking inside, he made his way through the first floor, turning to the left where he was greeted by the sight of the mudblood with her parents at the dining table, drenched in silence.

The mudblood was the first to see him, her eyes opening in shock. Quirrell didn't have time to wonder about the strangeness of that reaction to the presence of a teacher, before the girl let out a scream of fear, jumping up from the table. The next second, spells were flying towards him, which he batted away easily. Nonetheless, he was surprised to find duelling spells ranging from first to third-year material leaving the girl's wand. The muggle's in the meantime had started shouting at him, but while he still batted away the girl's assault, he quickly shot two body binds towards them both.

 _Fun for later._

"As fun as this is, girl, let's cut this short." He started casting himself now, and again was surprised at the girl shielding his first two spells, dodging the third, but then only getting hit by the fourth.

"You know, my master wasn't very happy about your little show-off antics. A mudblood pretending to be more powerful than all of the first-year students combined? That's just not something we can let pass."

The girl was glaring at him with a look between anger and fear, which made Quirrell's heart feel all fuzzy. With a wave of his wand, he cancelled the part of the bind keeping her from speaking.

"My parents… please… don't hurt them," she asked with a surprisingly steady voice.

"So young and already so noble… tell me girl, why should I do that?"

She didn't waste a breath before answering, "I will join your master. I will take the mark."

Quirrell looked surprised. How did she know who he was working for? That would explain her reaction earlier. But that was what his master had been trying to accomplish with him approaching her. Maybe his master had acted with him unconscious and already started turning her? It would explain why he was too exhausted to make his presence known for several weeks. If that was the case, he really dodged a bullet here. Killing someone the Dark Lord had already started working on… he would not survive that.

"Has my master already approached you? What does he look like?" he asked, carefully keeping his tone neutral.

"Yes," she answered, "I was… unsure. The Dark Lord is currently residing at the back of your head."

While normally, only the Dark Lord was able to give someone the mark, Quirrell had limited access to his master's magic through the possession. With a wave of his wand, the spell holding the girl in place was cancelled, and her wand was flying into his hand.

"Hold out your arm, girl."

She did so, her arm shivering even before his wand touched her skin and the sleeve of her sweater was cut through.. When he intoned the spell, she started to scream, but managed to keep her arm outstretched for the whole duration, which more than impressed Quirrell. The skull burned its way through her skin, slowly, before a snake started withering out of it. Her whole forearm had turned an angry red, while tears of pain were streaming from the girl's face.

"HERMIONE!"

Just as he finished, a spell hit him in the back, flinging him into the opposite wall. He cursed himself for not having paid attention. His whole body ached, and he was sure he had broken a few bones on the impact. Something wet was dripping down his face, and as he tried to lift his head through the pain, the last thing he saw was the angry visage of the Potter boy before another spell hit him, and everything turned to black.

-o-o-

"Hermione, oh god…" Harry's gaze was fixated on the fresh mark on Hermione's arm. He rushed over to her, as she fell forward, unconscious into his embrace. Remus stiffly stood behind them, just as horrified. Something at the edge of his vision momentarily deterred his focus from Hermione, as something started rising from Quirrell's still body. Harry reacted quickly, forcing an illusion on himself and Remus, making them look like Aurors.

The spirit of the Dark Lord slowly detached itself from his host, taking in the surrounding scene. His face turned angry at the still Quirrell, before a small twitch of a smile echoed over his ghostly visage when he noticed Hermione's mark. Harry knew he wouldn't be able to stop the shade from fleeing, and so he simply feigned surprise, before letting Voldemort escape through the wall behind him.

"Harry, the trace is still on Hermione's wand. The ministry should be on its way," Remus said carefully, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry took a moment to formulate a plan inside his head. "Take Hermione and her parents to Godrics Hollow. I will take care of them."

Remus looked as if he wanted to argue, but then quickly took the stunned couple on one hand, as well as the unconscious Hermione on the other, before vanishing.

Harry quickly got to work. He wouldn't have much time to set up the illusion necessary, but he hoped it would be enough. His form morphed into death eater ropes, transfiguring the dead Quirrell's ones in a more permanent manner. A few quick spells wrecked the room, as if a prolonged battle had been fought. A few injuries were added to his disguise, and what seemed to be a wand appeared in his hand. Just as he finished, he was greeted by two 'pops' and what he assumed were two Aurors behind him. Acting as if he had been speaking to his comrade, he let the men behind him catch the rest of his sentence. "That's what you get for letting them flee, you traitor."

"Drop your wand!" he heard someone shout behind his back. Slowly, Harry turned around, shooting the two Aurors a smile.

"Of course," he said, slowly letting his hands rise into the air, then dropping the wand to the ground. As he saw the Aurors slowly lowering their wands as well, a small twitch of his hand resulted in something akin to a flashbang going off between them, before he started a complicated chain apparition across the country to lose their tail.

-o-o-

When Harry opened the door to their home, he could already hear the shouting. He quickly made his way over to the living room, where currently Dan and Emma Granger were arguing with Remus and Sirius. He could see Hermione looking distressed between the four, as if she wanted to intervene but couldn't quite get herself to do it. She was sitting on the couch, clearly still extremely exhausted from receiving the mark.

"You said you would keep her SAFE," Dan had dropped all pretence of civility at this point. And when his eyes saw Harry at the doorway, his anger rose to all new heights.

"You! The crazy wizard was there because of you, wasn't he?! How dare yo-"

"Shut up!" Hermione's father looked like a deer in headlights as his daughter's icy sharp voice cut him off. "How dare you blame Harry for this? This had nothing to do with him. Quirrell was there because of my own foolish actions. He was there because I had to make a big show to impress Malfoy. Harry is the only reason you are still alive, so stop. shouting. at. him."

Mr. Granger was clearly at a loss for words or actions, so he just stood there as Hermione once again broke into tears, ran over to Harry and clung to him like someone drowning would cling to a lifebelt.

"This isn't your fault, Hermione," Harry quietly said to her, while gently stroking her hair. "You couldn't have predicted such a reaction from Quirrell, and I am pretty sure he didn't do it on his master's orders. Voldemort wouldn't have squashed his chance at a new body for… this." He grimaced at seeing her angry-red arm exposed through the destroyed sleeve.

"You three should head back home soon," he addressed the Granger's "The ministry employees will ask what happened. This is the official story: You got attacked by two wizards in death eater robes. They started to argue and fight, which is how you were able to flee. Don't mention us and don't mention the mark."

"What, now you want us t-" Dan's protest were cut off by an angry Sirius who shoved him into the wall behind him.

"Not one more word, Mr. Granger. Did you know the fact that I was in prison for years for killing thirteen muggles in a single night? Do you want to make it fourteen?"

Mr. Granger gave a fearful shake of his head, and Sirius roughly let him go, before turning to Hermione. "Hermione, please take your parents home, would you? We will talk tomorrow."

Hermione reluctantly let go of Harry before motioning her shocked parents to follow her. Before leaving, she shot Harry a short look. "Please come early," She whispered.

Harry let himself fall on the couch as soon as the three had left the house. Sirius sat beside him with a sigh. "I know you would have liked to keep her here, but it would be far too suspicious having them missing for too long. Especially with the ministry not being able to track them."

"Did you have to threaten them like that?" Harry asked, letting his head fall into his hands.

"They will come around. Hermione will have told them the emptiness of that thread as soon as they had left. But I don't think you would have been able to sit through any more arguing right now."

Harry just shook his head.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:**

Chapter 13! I hope you have fun reading this. Every review gets me to write more, so feel free to type in any criticism or praise that is in your mind!

* * *

Hermione was hurt. Her arm was aching all through the night, but her spiralling emotions were far more painful than the actual physical pain. How had everything gone so bad so quickly? She had tried reasoning with her father until deep into the night, but she wasn't able to get through the protective instincts of Dan at all. Her mother wasn't helping either, sitting silently beside them arguing, only suggesting that they should head to bed when they had been arguing for hours.

At least the ministry wasn't suspecting anything, or at least that was the impression Hermione got from the Aurors that had questioned them. Even Dan had stuck to their prepared story, and they were able to completely hide the fact that Hermione had forcefully received the Dark Mark.

With a sigh Hermione left her bed early in the morning, absently rubbing her forearm. The mark had faded a lot over the night, most likely because of Voldemort's currently weak form, but still it was hurting quite a lot. She showered and got dressed mechanically, entering the kitchen like in some sort of haze.

"Hermione?" her mother's voice nearly made her jump in surprise. She hadn't even seen her sitting at the kitchen table.

"Mom," she answered, taking a seat next to her mother. It didn't take more than three seconds for Hermione to start crying again, even though she thought she had exhausted her tears all through the night.

"Oh dear," her mother quickly enveloped her into a hug, slowly stroking her hair.

"Mom…" Hermione began speaking as her sobs slowly receded, "The Wizarding World will be at war soon. If I didn't have Harry, I would most likely have died as soon as Voldemort starts hunting muggleborn witched and wizards again, because I would have neither the skill to defend myself, nor the support to help me. I would not even have known that this is what is coming for me. But Harry explained it to me, and he gave me the choice to leave! I refused! And I would do it again. Because since meeting Harry, I have never been happier. I made friends that care for me, and I will not let them die if I can stop it. Mom, I can see that I am more powerful than my classmates. And not only a little bit. I could most likely beat most second and third years after only half a year of training with Harry. They NEED me. And I will not let them die by the hands Voldemort. We will stop this war before it even properly begins, and then we will reform wizarding Britain, and I will play an important part in that, even…even if you and Dad hate me for it."

A loud sigh by the door let Hermione's head spin around to face her father, standing there looking just as exhausted as herself. He slowly came over to sit next to them, putting a hand on her knee for comfort.

"We will NEVER hate you, Hermione," he spoke slowly, "We are worried. The though of something happening to you kills me. You are my little girl, and you entered a world where I am utterly powerless and useless to protect you as a father should."

Dan made a small pause, as if thinking what to say next. "I would like to speak to Harry again. If…I can't stop this I at least want to be involved and by your side, as much as I can be."

Harry must have thought this was his cue, because at that moment, the doorbell rang, cutting Hermione off from answering. Dan stood up deliberately, and Hermione watched with conflicted emotion as he went towards the front door. It took all of Hermione's will to stop herself from following him, and when she saw her father returning with Harry in tow, she had to physically restrain herself from running into Harry's arms.

Harry looked utterly exhausted, a wave of sadness and anger washing over his face as he looked at her, before it turned into a small smile. "Hello Hermione, Mrs. Granger," he greeted them before taking seat next to her father who had already returned to her side.

"Mr. Potter," her father addressed Harry far more calmly than Hermione expected, "Can you promise something to me?"

"That would depend on the promise, Mr. Granger," Harry answered, and Hermione could see how from her side view of his face, how anguished he appeared.

"Promise me that you will not put Hermione in danger that she would not need to be in. Promise me to do everything in your power to protect her, and that you will not lie to us about what is happening."

Harry looked at her father for a few long seconds, before taking out his wand and holding it in front of his chest.

"I swear on my magic that I will not put Hermione intentionally into danger that is not ready to handle or that I feel like could be avoided. I swear to do everything in my power to protect her from harm, and that I will not lie to you about anything concerning her safety. As I swear, so mote it be."

A small glow emitted from his wand and engulfed Harry's chest for a moment, before dissipating.

"Mr. Granger, I am terribly sorry for what happened here yesterday. Remus and I will start warding your house as soon as possible, so that we will arrive as soon as any unwelcoming guests try to approach your property. I neglected that, because I deemed the risk very unlikely at the moment, I would not have predicted Quirrell acting so impulsively. The possession he was under must have taking a bigger toll in his mind than I expected."

Dan nodded silently, before shooting a glance at Hermione. "What that maniac did to her…what are the consequences?"

Harry's face turned into a grimace. "Luckily, through our vows, her mind and her actions cannot be swayed by the marks magic, as it would on most other people. She will have that disgusting thing as long as Voldemort is alive, and he has the power to send a medium amount of pain through the link if he wished to do so. Other than that, he is able to send short commands to her, which Hermione can luckily ignore."

Harry stayed for a couple more hours, going over the marks magic and possible next steps with the Granger family. The atmosphere was still extremely tense, but civility remained in all their discussions. When Harry went to leave, Hermione enclosed him into a long hug, which managed to ease his worry somewhat.

-o-o-

The next stop on Harry's agenda for today was the Lovegood residence. Luna's letter had most likely saved Hermione's life, but Harry couldn't shake the wariness from his body. How had Luna known that Quirrell would choose today to attack the Grangers? How had Luna known about him and Hermione in the first place? The only reasonable explanation would be some sort of sight into the future, which Harry had to admit he knew very little about. Harry hadn't had much contact with Luna in his past life. If he was being honest, he didn't even know how she had died. Well, maybe the girl would be able to explain what had prompted her letter.

A short knock on the door of the Lovegood home was followed by the sound of excited footsteps, and a few seconds later a grinning face framed by blonde hair appeared in front of Harry.

"Harry!" Luna Lovegood exclaimed, quickly stepping aside and motioning him to come in, "I was wondering when you would show up!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, following the girl inside.

"Daddy!", the bubbly girl shouted through the short hallway, "Harry is here, we are gonna' talk in the parlour!"

"Sure, Sweetheart," was the answer that echoed back, and Harry didn't know if he should be worried about the Lovegood's patriarch's lack of caution for his daughter or just accept the total weirdness that seemed to run in the family.

A few moments later both he and Luna were sitting in comfortable chairs, in the rather small living room for the rather old pureblood family. The whole house was more alike to the Weasley's home than an actual manor like the Malfoy's. It lacked the slight disorder the Weasley's home projected though.

"So, Luna, First I would like to thank you for your letter. It came just in time to pretend the worst," Harry began the conversation, "Although I would be very interested where you got that information."

Luna smiled dreamily, her eyes seeming slightly unfocused, so that Harry wasn't sure if she was actually looking at him or at something completely different.

"The women in our family have been seer of one form or another since as long as we can recollect. The gift can show itself very differently and can vary in its potency by a lot. Mommy always said that mine would be…strong. One part of that are visions at night, which since around two years ago started to focus very heavily on…you."

Harry nodded, his brows slightly furrowed together, processing the information. Then he motioned Luna to continue.

"Mommy officially died in an experimental spell accident, but that is not completely true. Months before her death she had a vision, which prompted her to undergo a ritual with me. She left this for you to read."

Luna stood up while talking, hopping over to a table standing by the side, and picked up an envelope, slowly stroking the paper before handing it to him. Harry couldn't stop the surprise from showing on his face, as he pulled the letter out of the envelope and began reading.

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _I am writing this letter to relay to you what information I could gather through my visions before my impeding death. I will use a ritual of my own construction which will take my life soon. The purpose of that ritual is to protect Luna from any unwilling bindings, and to only allow those she willingly chooses to take a hold of her._

 _I am doing this because Luna will be an ally in the group you should be currently forming, and only with her help will you be able to fulfil your goals. Her gift is incredibly strong, and the upcoming madness associated with every seer will start to kick in shortly after your return. It will start slow but build up over time to the point of a state of mind that is so overwhelmed it cannot process the storm of information, rendering her in state of conscious unconsciousness._

 _For the help Luna will provide to you I have only one demand. Find a way to preserve her mind. I have instructed her to only take a vow where you promise to do your utmost best at fulfilling that condition, I hope that you can not only save the wizarding world, but my little girl too._

 _I wish you the best luck on your journey, you will need it. And with that I have another thing to leave you with. A prophecy that I myself don't understand. I hope it will help you in time._

 _When the castle falls,_

 _The only chance lies in the shadows,_

 _The last one can be found within,_

 _And an end must be chosen for the world to find peace._

Harry had reread the letter around three times, before he looked up at Luna. "I presume you know its contents?" Luna nodded, her dreamy smile not faltering for a second.

"I waited for you to come to me on your own, but now that you are here, we can do the vows after heading to the place you and the others are at currently." Luna exclaimed.

Harry was still taken aback by all that information. Could he trust Luna? He didn't know her. It was a variable he hadn't considered, but her and her mother knew too much for this to be fake or a setup. Well, it seemed like he had to not rely on his future knowledge of people for this.

"Very well," he said, while rising from the comfortable chair, carefully putting the letter in his pockets, "Let us inform your father that we are heading out."

-o-o-

Remus and Sirius were surprisingly calm when Harry explained the situation to them. After all that hat happened the last few days, maybe they were just so overloaded that such a surprise didn't bother them that much. The vows were taken, with Remus doing the part of the binder. For a moment, Harry had hesitated when Luna had gripped his hand. Was he able to take on that burden? To save Luna, even though he had no clue were to even begin? But when he looked into her eyes, he saw a kind of determination that washed the last bit of doubt away. He would try, what was one more life to save when he already had lost so many? No, he would not fail a second time.

Afterwards, after he had brought Luna back to her father – who had just nodded at him politely when he had taken her to Godrics Hollow – he sat down in the comfortable living room, staring at the Firewhiskey in front of him. He had poured himself a small glass, careful not to overdo it. There was just so much to process, so much to do, to plan, to execute. Kusznezow would be soon visited by Remus – Harry had taken a drop of Luna's blood as well to get her a wand too – and he had to visit him himself as soon as the schoolyear would end to talk about a possible secondary focus. Hermione was branded, and Harry had no idea on how to handle that. Hogwarts was short a defence professor, and Harry had no idea on how that would affect the timeline. His future knowledge seemed to slip further away day by day, and with it fear and anxiety flooded his senses. They hadn't even begun making moves towards either the ministry or Voldemort. The Dark Lords Horcruxes' needed to be destroyed, and Harry didn't even know every one of their locations.

Harry sighed, taking a small sip of his glass, when the familiar voice of his godfather cut him out of his musings.

"Hey pup," Sirius let himself fall on the couch next to Harry, laying a hand on his shoulder, before pouring himself a glass of Firewhiskey next to Harry's, "Troubling thoughts?"

"Quite a few," Harry answered, letting his head fall back on the edge of the couch.

"We are making progress," Sirius stated resolutely "I know it doesn't seem like much right now, but as you said, we can't run straight into trouble without preparations – not for this."

Harry let a small chuckle escape his lips. "That's funny coming from the number one wizard to run headfirst into trouble."

Sirius let out a barking laugh. "That sounded a lot like something Lilly would say Harry."

"I take that as a compliment," Harry said, a small smile forming on his lips.

"That's the only way being compared to the wonderful girl you had as a mother should be taken."


End file.
